Mizuage
by Tintinnabula
Summary: He didn't want to take responsibility for her. Sakura was nothing to him, and Kakashi was certain that he was nothing to her. With the way he'd treated her, how could it be otherwise? kakasaku Rated M for a reason. Please use discretion.
1. Chapter 1

**Mizuage-- A Naruto Fan Fiction**

Disclaimer: Naruto and associated characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto. No money will be made from or is intended to be earned from this work of fiction.

Author's note: This story will be darker than my previous work. It will contain graphic sex, not all of it romantic, and you may find parts disturbing. The world Kishimoto has depicted raises a lot of questions about the structure of ninja society. Children kill and they witness unspeakable acts. What else would go on in a community that accepts this as normal? I'm hoping to treat sexuality honestly, and the truth is not always pretty. Also, at the start of this story—because of the society I am imagining-- Kakashi will be very sexist (although he will change). There is some support for this in the manga, starting with his very first meeting with Team Seven, but I am very aware that the Kakashi depicted here pushes any extrapolation on canon to the limit. **For these reasons, if you are under age 18, easily offended, or do not want to imagine Kakashi characterized in this way, please do not read. **For all others, I hope you enjoy the story. I'm looking forward to telling it.

**Mizuage**

Chapter One

Hatake Kakashi did not want to be there. He'd repeatedly-- heatedly—asked to be relieved of this duty, but the Hokage, in all his wisdom, had deemed otherwise. Not that the Hokage was all that wise. It was Naruto, after all who'd taken on the hat and mantle of leadership for the village, and although the copy ninja could be put to death for claiming this publicly, in the privacy of Kakashi's inner dialogue he was not afraid to face facts: the village's system of choosing its leader had a major flaw. Choosing someone to be chief based on brute strength or military prowess was feudal, to put it mildly. A leader needed far more than S-class jutsu to be adept at governing. The Hokage's role entailed skills beyond battlefield planning. Although advisors could be hired to compensate for whatever expertise was lacking, precious few were good at their job. Most were 'yes' men, rubber stamping their approval on the Hokage's every whim.

This was different, however. The Rokudaime had thought long and hard before making the decision that landed Kakashi in the rafters of an exclusive, though well-known tea house halfway across the fire country. The village was in financial straits, as it often was, and the money offered for this particular mission had been too good to refuse. Add to that the knowledge that the village considered their quarry a threat with the fact that Sakura was in line to be assessed for jounin status, and decision was almost made for him. This was in spite of the Hokage's sisterly feelings for her. Business was business, and Sakura had readily agreed to the mission.

It had been done before, he told Kakashi. People didn't talk about it much, but mizuage was once a standard practice in the village hidden in the leaves. In the early days, when a kunoichi's role was purely seduction and infiltration, and at a time when the village has desperately needed money, it had made perfect sense to auction off a kunoichi's virginity to the highest bidder outside of the village. The girl would demonstrate for her shishou and a panel of jounin (hidden, of course) that she'd learned perfectly all that she'd been taught in the years of lessons every kunoichi took. More importantly, she'd learn that sex was a tool, the most valuable one in her arsenal, not a romantic interaction, but one of great practical value.

But in recent years the practice had become rare. This was mostly because girls—both kunoichi and civilian-- no longer regarded their virginity as anything special, but rather something to be gotten rid of as quickly as possible. It didn't make sense to move mizuage to a time in a girl's life when she _was_ still a virgin: a kunoichi should be able to agree to such an intimate proposition, and a girl in her early teens was in no position to do so-- emotionally or legally. And by the time the girl was old enough to give her binding consent, her virginity was typically long gone.

So nowadays kunoichi were assessed on their seduction skills by means of a written and practical exam. Kakashi was pretty sure the practical did not involve live subjects. It took place within the kunoichi annex of the academy and, as far as he could ascertain, the number of men (adult or teenage) within the village was the same on exam days as on any other. Besides, he would have heard rumors if men were tapped to participate in the kunoichi exam, and certainly he, either now or during his teenage years, would have been asked to take part.

Whatever went on at in the kunoichi annex now, it was different than in the past.

Girls were different today than they'd been at the founding of the village. Although this wasn't true outside of the village, within its walls civilian females were no longer considered possessions of their families. They were no longer chattel to be married off to better a family's social standing, but individuals with as much autonomy as their brothers. This independence had translated into ninja culture as well. Girls expected to be treated like full shinobi, not as mere sidekicks or accessories, and the job had evolved to meet these demands. Although it was true that the kunoichi's basic art was still practiced, these days it was strictly by choice. No female shinobi was forced into a sexual mission, although most took it on willingly, given the pay. The law that had once been on the books-- one which required jounin kunoichi to be sexually experienced-- had long ago been stricken. The reason for this law had been quite logical: in times of war, virgins were among the most highly valued prizes. Although rape was horrible no matter the victim, fear of this act of aggression seemed to be worse among sexually inexperienced girls than among their more seasoned peers. Therefore, a virgin jounin was a risk to the successful completion of any mission, Kakashi believed.

But despite the logic of this law, it was no longer practical. For one thing, it couldn't be enforced. Long ago, a kunoichi's role had been to infiltrate and seduce using "feminine wiles." As might be imagined, this required neither stamina nor exertion. But the vigorous athleticism required of modern kunoichi ensured that any physical sign of virginity was often long gone by the time a girl reached her teens. This wasn't always the case, but it happened frequently enough that a physical exam could not be used to determine definitively whether a girl was still "untouched." In light of this and the changing status of female shinobi, the elders had decided that requiring a kunoichi to display her sexual acumen was just not acceptable, considering that this was something they'd never require the men to do.

So to make their kunoichi less valuable to potential aggressors, a finely executed whisper campaign had been put into place. It was amazing what a few well-placed rumors could do to ruin the collective reputation of the village's female shinobi. Word of dentate vaginas and a predilection for killing post coitus like a praying mantis had done a lot to ensure the safety of Leaf's kunoichi. But nevertheless, it was made clear to girls even before they graduated from the academy that they should lose their virginity by the time they were fifteen, at the very latest. They would be far safer psychologically and physically if they did so.

This was only a suggestion, not an official directive, but most kunoichi complied willingly. There was nothing to be gained in keeping one's virginity now that dowries were a thing of the past, and there was money to be made by taking on missions of a sexual nature. And, given teenage hormones, waiting seemed like a most unreasonable thing to do. It made much more sense to enjoy all that life offered considering how short a shinobi's life was likely to be.

Yet, for whatever reason, Sakura had not followed the suggestion taken by most of her peers. Maybe this was due to her workload or her unrequited pre-teen love for Sasuke. Or it could be for any other reason. Kakashi had no idea why an overachiever like his former student would not have taken this step toward adulthood as soon as possible. But Kakashi's lack of knowledge wasn't surprising. In truth, he didn't know Sakura very well. He never had. His time with Team Seven was divided unevenly between Sasuke and Naruto, with an insignificant amount left over for Sakura, and he hadn't thought twice over abandoning either her or Naruto to focus on the student best suited to his skills. Later, in Team Kakashi, almost all of his focus was bestowed to on Naruto, the person he expected to eventually lead the village.

Kakashi bore no guilt over this. He had nothing to offer Sakura. Her talents were a better match to those of Tsunade, and to be sure, the two were simpatico. He, on the other hand, had never been able to understand shrieking, boy-crazy pre-teen girls or their more sullen adolescent counterparts. Girls might as well be a separate species. The same was true of women, for that matter. He just didn't understand how their minds worked, and he had no desire to find out. In fact, except for meeting certain physical needs, he'd rather stay clear of them.

Years before, he'd admitted to himself a truth that he had no plans to share with others. Despite their status as equals in the eyes of the law, deep inside Kakashi did not see females this way.

Even the most competent of kunoichi (Temari of the Sand came to mind) could not compare to a male of the same status. A female shinobi might be granted the same rank as her male counterpart, but the truth was that a kunoichi was less strong physically, less useful in battle (apart from those trained as medics-- a _support_ role, he noted), and less adept at making decisions under stress. Maybe it was hormones that caused their thinking to be fuzzy or that monthly malady that turned many into raging bitches. It really didn't matter. In the end, they had less to offer and tended to weaken a team.

The Hyuuga were a good example. Even with the same repertoire of jutsu and the kekkai genkai Hinata could not compare to her cousin. She was nowhere close to Neji in ability, and despite years of practice, could never hope to approach him. Yamanaka Ino's skills were useless without a colleague to disable her enemy, and Tenten's skills were totally weapon-based. Should she lose her scrolls, she would be dead meat.

And even Sakura's strength, a result of her unique ability to read and focus her chakra, came only in spurts, due to the abysmally low amounts of chakra her body was able to generate. This was estrogen-related-- Kakashi was sure of it. He and the boys had noticed, years before, that her strength (and temper) waxed and waned with the moon, suggesting her chakra flow was linked to her menstrual cycle.

The exception to these observations was Tsunade. She would not have been chosen Hokage unless she was truly the best ninja of the village. And she certainly was this: the most talented medic the village had ever seen, a fighter of international repute, a legend identified by first name only. She had blazed the trail for women shinobi, showing all what was possible. But like many trailblazers, she was forced to do more than emulate the object she pursued. She acted more aggressively than a full-maned lion or silverback gorilla. She overcompensated. Tsunade displayed more masculine traits than many men, from the way she drank and swore and gambled to her awesome extremes of strength. And she did this while maintaining a face and figure of a beauty queen. These qualities characteristics inspired loyalty in all shinobi except a small male faction that would not have been satisfied with the appointment of any but their own. She certainly had Kakashi's loyalty. Still, he had to wonder how her strengths would have differed had she been born male. Surely they would have been based more on natural-born skills and less on the artifice of medicine and hidden jutsu.

But Kakashi's feelings about kunoichi did not mean he didn't care about Sakura. Of course he did. He cared for her just as he cared for the other members of the original team seven or any of his other teammates and subordinates over the years. In fact, he'd spent extra effort looking out for her, the way a brother might look out for a much younger sister. He hadn't lied when he said he'd give his life for his teammates. This extended to her, just as it had to the other members of the team. Sakura was a fine kunoichi, an excellent medic. But even if she'd been neither of these things, as his teammate, his job was to protect her.

Nevertheless, it rankled that he'd been tapped for this mission. Surely, he'd argued to Naruto, surely there was someone else who could better serve as a witness. Someone closer to her and more invested in her future. Someone who wouldn't be embarrassed at witnessing this event. A female friend perhaps, or a relative? But the immediate answer was "no." Kakashi hadn't realized how small her family was. Like Kakashi, she was an only child, and like him, her mother and father were gone. And so was her mentor. As for friends, they were all chuunin. That left him, Naruto pointed out. Kakashi was the only other person she'd served under, apart from Tenzou and _that_ hadn't been for long. Nor was it official. There should be someone neutral in attendance, and someone firmly on her side. Kakashi, Naruto declared with authority, was to fill the latter role. Kurenai, because of her experience, would head up the mission. This rankled, too. Kakashi had far more experience than she.

So now Kakashi sat in the rafters of an outbuilding set aside for special guests and occasions, his legs cramped, eyes irritated by the thick, grey dust they'd stirred up when they'd climbed into the place. His mask protected him from the worst of it. But Kurenai looked as though she was going to explode with a barrage of sneezes at any second. She kept blinking and rubbing her nose as mote after mote swirled around them. She was silent, apart from intermittent sneezes, but this wasn't surprising. She hadn't spoken more than a few words since they'd entered the tea house. Kurenai had seemed tense, her posture changing as soon as she entered the space. She held herself compactly while moving as she moved around the room, the way one moves in a store crowded with breakable items-- arms tight against one's sides, gait inhibited. She adjusted the room's few articles of furniture again and again, climbing up into the rafters to survey the tableau she'd created, then alighting on the still green tatami to adjust the room's simple screen, small lacquer table, or even the uncomfortable-looking porcelain block that would serve as Sakura's headrest. Now, as they waited for the show to begin, Kakashi couldn't fathom Kurenai's expression, although he did wonder what the ruby-eyed woman was thinking.

Probably about her own history.

Kurenai was selected for this mission because she was one of the few current kunoichi to have undergone mizuage herself. Shizune had gone through it, or so Kakashi had heard, but like Tsunade, she was gone. Kurenai, therefore, was one of only a handful of kunoichi who knew how things should play out-- how the client would likely behave as the evening progressed, how to know if things were getting out of hand, and so forth. Kakashi studied Kurenai for a moment, wondering why she had consented to this ritual years before. She'd been with Asuma for years longer than anyone had realized, keeping their relationship under wraps for as long as possible. The genjutsu user seemed like a homebody to Kakashi, the rare type of kunoichi to settle down with one man. The copy ninja couldn't understand why she'd gone through with a mizuage mission at the age of sixteen. Looking back, he was fairly certain she was dating Asuma then. Perhaps he'd agreed to it, even suggested it, putting her career before his own sexual gratification.

For both males and females, promotion to jounin required an assassination-- one witnessed by two shinobi of equivalent or higher rank. Kurenai's had likely taken place in a teahouse quite similar to this one, in conjunction with a mizuage. She'd played the role of maiko, favoring one client enough to persuade him not only to take her on as mistress, but to do the honor of deflowering her as well. But something had gone wrong-- Kurenai hadn't made jounin at that time. That occurred many years later.

The mission planned for Sakura was the same, although hopefully _she_ would be more successful.

Kakashi had heard of the target, Masamune Kuro, on two earlier occasions. He owned several gambling houses in the major cities of fire and was one of Tsunade's biggest creditors. No doubt at least a portion of her debts were still on the books, and the Leaf village was responsible for making good on this debt. Apart from that, the man was known as a loutish brute who won at any cost. His debtors lost fingers, suffered shattered kneecaps and all of the other indignities of the loan sharked, and they often feared for their lives. Kuro lived in luxury and to excess. He had three wives, it was rumored, and at least four concubines, although both of these numbers were in dispute. Females had a way of disappearing should they remain in his company long enough. Of course this was disconcerting to the relatives of his women. The families of two of his former wives had contacted the village in search of revenge. They were sure their daughters had been killed by Kuro. Both families were poor (in fact, they'd sold their daughters into marriage) but each had scraped together the considerable fee charged for the type of assassination that left no traces.

Then there was the tea house. Its okiya had contacted the village herself. Kuro was one of her biggest clients, but she wanted him gone. Apparently he'd behaved inappropriately with one of the new girls, although it was not made clear exactly what this meant. As Kuro was a man of great power and influence, the okiya could not simply ask him to leave, or drop him from her client list. Instead she asked the village for an assassination style that would not negatively impact her business. It wouldn't do for the man to turn up with a knife in his back, or for there to be rumors that one of her girls had poisoned him. But as Kuro was clamoring for a new girl to sponsor, or rather, to claim as his own, the okiya had agreed to train a kunoichi to replace the girl she'd lost. Sakura had been in place six months, quickly learning the trade, which according to Kurenai, was not that different from the skills learned in kunoichi lessons.

All in all, a lot of money was on the line. Tsunade's gambling debts were considerable. Even the interest being paid on them equated to the yearly take home pay of five jounin. So when the opportunity to take this man out presented itself, Naruto had jumped. Apparently, so had Sakura. Perhaps she felt the need to pay off her shishou's debt. He knew the girl was strange when it came to things like that. So was Naruto. Both had spent several miserable years in search of their lost teammate, in some misguided effort to redeem him. Kakashi agreed wholeheartedly with the idea that no one should ever abandon a teammate. He'd built his nindo around it. But this was different: Sasuke had abandoned _them_. He was a rogue ninja, an enemy of the village. Kakashi had spent part of his life tracking down enemies like him and bringing their lifeless bodies back to Konoha. Sakura and Naruto should have cut their losses and moved on with life, but they were romantic, horribly romantic. This was something Kakashi just couldn't relate to.

The clichéd adage said that no man was an island, but Kakashi disagreed. At the very least he was a peninsula, connected to the mainland by the thinnest of causeways. He was a loner by choice, not necessity. He didn't see the value of connecting with others outside of work. He prided himself on being the ultimate shinobi while assigned to a mission, a true team player, but in his free time he was anything but. He valued his privacy more than the feelings of good will accumulated by going out for drinks or dinner with colleagues, and he found his inner conversations far more scintillating and far less of an effort than talking to others.

Once it had been different. He had changed from an anal-retentive, by-the-book soldier who had no time for friends into one who sought them, thanks to Obito. For a brief period of time he'd opened himself up to his remaining teammates and to colleagues like Gai and Genma and Asuma. But then Rin had died, followed quickly by Minato-sensei, and Kakashi had quickly closed himself off again. In a matter of months, he lost all of the people most precious to him. He'd decided it wasn't worth reaching out again. It was better to be alone and aloof, better to recognize that all the people he cared about were long gone and not to be replaced.

He didn't need friends to stay busy. He had his books, after all, his blessed porn, and the several hobbies he'd alluded to on his first day with Team Seven. He liked reading, obviously, and writing poetry-- dirty poetry that is, and although almost no one knew it, he was a fairly accomplished cook. One had to be when living alone, unless one wanted to subsist on cardboard-flavored cup ramen. And Kakashi had his dogs, of course, although they didn't live with him. On the rare occasions when he was lonely, he summoned one or two of them and listened for a while to their talk of love and family. That was usually enough to set him back on track. The copy ninja couldn't stomach hearing about others intimate relationships for long.

Yet here he was now, a voyeur to the most intimate of all relationships, watching something he had no business observing.

Despite their vantage point above the room and the limitations placed on their field of sight by the woven slats that formed the false ceiling, Kakashi and Kurenai could make out all areas of the space quite clearly. It was furnished simply, but several mirrors included at Kurenai's suggestion were tilted purposefully on their frames to allow a view of both Sakura's and the client's faces.

Sakura entered the room, and Kakashi observed a woman quite different from the coltish, boot-clad teenager he had taught. Her hair was pulled into an elaborate coif of the wareshinobu style, its unusual carnation color darkened to magenta by the waxes and oils used to smooth it into the typical half peach hairstyle of the geisha-trainee. The delicate skin of her neck's nape was painted white in a stylized manner that exposed the smallest portion of naked flesh, and this thick white makeup extended to her face and décolletage. Her eyes were lined in both kohl and an unusual deep red that made her irises appear a more vividly green than usual. The only other color on her face was a hint of pink on her cheeks and the spot of crimson that partially covered her lower lip. Its tiny, berry like shape suggested she was just-ripened fruit, a delicacy that had not yet been tasted but which would bloom into full flavor with a lover's first kiss.

The eroticism of a geisha's dress and makeup was subtle but intense. The deliberate covering of the back of the neck in stark white paint to expose a mere hint of untinted flesh made its velvet surface as tantalizing as any peach, and the draping of the crimson-framed garment to expose the upper back was purposefully titillating. Add to that the deliberate blankness of the face presented to the client, and the meters upon meters of fabric wrapping the woman like an elaborately decorated gift. All was meant to entice and entrance, and because this image had been polished over hundreds of years, its subtle charms worked almost subliminally.

A change came over a room when a geisha or maiko entered, a hush shared by both males and females. All knew they were in the presence of true beauty and grace-- an essence of femininity that almost inspired worship. Even Kakashi, who had never before visited this type of teahouse, was familiar with the phenomenon. He'd seen a geisha or two strolling through the cobbled streets of the old district of this city and he'd felt for himself the reverential awe that they seemed to elicit from onlookers.

Now Sakura moved like a geisha, a consummately trained artist of dance, music and flirtation. Every gesture was executed perfectly and intentionally, from the smooth, effortless way she lowered herself to the ground despite the confining nature of her garment to the swan like gestures of her hands as she poured tea for the client.

She smiled beguilingly, the silken, willow-leaved kanzashi in her hair swinging gently as she beckoned Kuro closer to her.

Kakashi sized the man up as he entered the room. Kuro was a huge guy, not fat but solidly built, broad shouldered and tall. He was probably quite muscular under the formal kimono he wore, and his thick neck suggested he'd once wrestled or worked one of the physical trades, such as construction, smithing, or the like. He wasn't particularly handsome, Kakashi thought, but a man of his age with a full head of hair was a rarity. That had to count for something. So did his income, of course, and the power that accompanied it. It was no surprise that a man like him had a reputed harem of females to choose from.

With an effort Kuro lowered his considerable bulk onto the floor cushion opposite Sakura and laughed sonorously at the small, flirtatious joke she made. Something about muscles, probably a word play-- Kakashi didn't hear it all.

They talked for a while, Sakura's voice completely different in tone than what Kakashi remembered. He was familiar with the whiny timbre of Sakura's preteen voice, and that of the tearful, teenage Sakura and then the confident Hokage's apprentice. And he had many recollections of the grating voice of an angry Sakura and the way she would almost growl before slugging the ever-guilty Naruto.

But the elegant, poised Sakura-- her voice was a revelation. It was mellifluous, like the lower tones of a bamboo flute played quietly. Watching her provoked a response he hadn't expected, the visceral sensation of warmth and well-being one feels when observing something truly beautiful. It was almost as though Kakashi was watching a movie-- and not one of the kind he favored, but a historically accurate period piece. Sakura could be any geisha or maiko over the past 100 years. Apart from her unusually colored hair, she was interchangeable with any of the beauties that had come before her. And this was by design: geisha were meant to be doll-like, porcelain representations of an abstraction of femininity. This allowed them to reflect their companions' vanities all the more easily.

Kakashi looked up as he felt Kurenai's hand tap his shoulder and point toward the scene below them. Somehow he'd become lost in his thoughts for a moment, but he caught the tail end of Kuro's statement.

"...why I'm here. Show me what you've got."

Sakura stood uncertainly, her practiced grace forgotten for just a moment.

"I'm sorry. I've never done this before--"

"You'd better not have done this before. That's the point, remember?"

"Y-yes. That's not what I mean. It's my job to please you, and I want to get that right. Would you tell me what you want me to do?"

"You can start by taking your clothes off."

Sakura untied the obijime securing the checked satin fabric around her waist, then slowly unrolled its considerable length over her arm.

"Nice and slow. Keep going."

She lay the heavy red and gold brocade obi over the lower support of the bamboo kimono stand that stood next to the bed, laying a matching, shibori dyed obi-age above it.

"Turn towards me for the next part."

Sakura obliged. Thanks to the many mirrors in the room, this was not a problem for her observers. As she turned, her heavy kimono parted to reveal a deep red under-kimono also wrapped around its midsection with meters of cloth. This, like the obi, meant to turn her figure into an idealized column shape.

Sakura carefully hung the kimono on the stand and disrobed more, much to Kuro's approval.

"Damn right you'd better hang it up carefully, honey. You're holding a million ryo in your hands. And there'll be more where that came from if you make me happy tonight."

Kakashi wondered if Kuro had custom ordered the garment for Sakura. He doubted the man had lied about its exorbitant cost. It was a maiko-rank garment, to be sure, made of a type of fabric only the outrageously wealthy could afford, and padded susohiki-style to trail gracefully behind its wearer. What's more it had the extremely long, tucked and draped sleeves worn only by maiko, not their older sisters. It was accented with kinkoma embroidery against a chartreuse green background that which perfectly matched the early summer season and which set off Sakura's hair in the way that only this that color could. Multicolored bellflower blossoms—themselves a suitable metaphor for the occasion, given their short lives-- fell from shoulder to ankle of the decadent gown.

The man had very good taste. Sakura looked like a dream.

Kakashi's eyes moved back to the kunoichi and then quickly away. He'd rather not watch her disrobe-- he'd rather not watch any of this-- but as reporting jounin on this mission, he had to. Still, he wasn't ready to see the naked body of his one-time student. It wasn't right to even think of such a thing. He looked at Kurenai instead, who did not hesitate to display her irritation with him. Kakashi sighed and focused on Sakura again. She had just parted her under-kimono to reveal a perfectly filled bra and matching panties, which regrettably were in Kakashi's second favorite color for such garments-- a sizzling hot red that stood beacon bright against Sakura's pale skin.

At least she wasn't wearing black. Student or no student, that would probably be too much for him to handle. It was strange, however, that she was even wearing underwear. To his knowledge (not that it was first hand) geisha didn't wear underwear: panty lines would mar the smooth line of their kimono, and bra straps would be visible due to the way their outer garments were draped to show a delectable, white-painted back.

Perhaps Sakura didn't know all of the customs surrounding kitsuke: surely the rules for dressing geisha differed from those for civilians. But she'd been in situ for at least six months. He glanced at surprisingly full breasts encased in crimson satin and at panties slung low to rest on the fullest part of her hips. Fashion faux pas or not, she did look good.

Kakashi did his best to make abstract the situation unfolding below him and generalize the particulars of the woman involved. This was like watching a caterpillar wrap itself in a cocoon, Kakashi thought, but in reverse. It was fitting, he realized, as he considered the ultimate source of the kimono. And like a butterfly, he realized, Sakura had metamorphosed. She wasn't the hot-tempered, impetuous kid he remembered, the late bloomer who'd lagged behind her friends, her body still angular and gangly as theirs became voluptuously curved.

She was womanly now, quite womanly and as sexual as the kunoichi sitting beside him, or any of the others he cared to consider. A lot had gone on while he ignored his brightest student.

"You wore the bra and panties. Good." These words bothered Kakashi. The idea of someone so innocent clothing her most intimate parts with items that had probably been fondled (or worse) by this Kuro person was not something the copy ninja wanted to contemplate. The way the man said the words implied a fetish.

"Mmm. I've never seen a woman in such prime physical condition before."

And she was, Kakashi realized, abandoning his feeble attempts to intellectualize the scenario. He had to agree with Kuro, now that the man mentioned it. Sakura's body was as perfect a specimen of the female human form as that of any other kunoichi he'd seen, and completely unblemished by scars. Her breasts were in perfect proportion to her body (or of the proportion he preferred, anyway), her abs were obviously rock hard, her ass tight, and the muscles of her arms and legs well defined. And these muscles were not the prominent ones of a runner or gymnast, but the more subtle (but still quite strong) ones of a perfectly toned model or even--

"Well, before okaasan took me in, I was a dancer. I trained for many years. Still do."

A dancer? This ought to be good. She did resemble one, he realized, with her long, delicately sculpted muscles and perfect posture, but nevertheless, the idea was laughable. As skilled a kunoichi as Sakura was, Kakashi knew her to be a horrible dancer. She was physical certainly and in perfect control of her body and its chakra, but she'd always opted for bold, strength-filled moves. She looked more like a kick boxer than a dance partner. Well, this was true the last time he'd seen her dance. But that was long ago, he realized. She'd been how old-- fourteen, fifteen? She was seventeen now, but a lifetime had seemingly passed.

" A dancer?" Kuro leered at her, and his lips curved into a knowing smile. "That's funny. I've never seen you. And I visit all the clubs. Well, I own them, actually."

"Not _that_ kind of dancer."

Because her face and back were painted, most onlookers would not have realized Sakura was blushing, but Kakashi, ever the observer, didn't miss the faint pink color that appeared at on her décolletage. Not that he'd been looking in that vicinity.

This was difficult, very difficult. And this was exactly why he'd tried to turn down the mission.

"I trained in the classical dance of our nation and the folk dances of many countries. Would you like me to demonstrate?"

Kuro shrugged dismissively.

"I want an erotic dance. Make a strip tease of your bra and panties." He began to hum a familiar, coarse melody heard at triple X clubs and bachelor parties across the continent-- one typically punctuated with raucous, drunken yells of "take it off baby."

_Take it all off._

Apparently Sakura was familiar with the tune. She closed her eyes for a moment, as though she were gathering her strength, then slowly began to move. She moved her hands in a sinuous line to caress first the outline of her breasts and then the curve of her torso and hips. She swayed gently, arching her neck as though she were offering it to a lover, then hooking one finger through the satin strap of her bra to pull it halfway down her upper arm. Her movements were luxuriant, almost hypnotic. Her lips parted and she took her finger into her mouth, then touched its moistened tip to the apex of her exposed breast. Kakashi watched, mesmerized as her flesh responded immediately.

Her eyes were closed again, he noticed as he tore his uncovered eyes away from her busy hands, which were now unhooking the fastener of her brassiere. He wondered what—or who-- she was imagining at that moment, which image was responsible for exciting her flesh so easily.

She was topless now. Kakashi couldn't help noticing. Despite the startling difference between her pink tinged flesh and the white mask that extended beyond the base of her neck, her beauty was unassailable. Her breasts were perfectly firm, like twin ripe peaches, tauntingly advertising their succulence, and for just a moment Kakashi was filled with envy for Kuro. A man like him could have anyone he wanted-- why did he want a girl like Sakura, a girl who was so much more than a pretty shell?

"Now the panties. That's right. Slowly." Kakashi could hear the lust saturating Kuro's voice. It fairly dripped with it. And when he stood, it was quite evident that he was aroused, despite the heavy kimono he wore.

"Turn. Let me see all of you."

Her shadow flickered against the wall, candlelight enlarging and collapsing its shape as Sakura slowly turned to display herself fully to her client.

"Now lie down." Kuro's voice was a bit rougher than it had been. "Spread your legs. Wider, so I can see. Touch yourself. I want to see you come."

Her eyes were screwed shut, Kakashi noticed, as though the image she depended upon was fading from sight. Kakashi watched her part her own flesh and slide her fingers slowly back and forth without result.

"I'm sorry. I can't--"

"You're scared, aren't you?" Kuro approached her, removing his haori as he did so, its formal, silly pompons swaying two and fro as the garment fell to the ground. His skirt-like hakama fell next, then the kimono and gi beneath it, until he stood at the foot of the futon, fully naked. A strange smile contorted his features.

He was as built as Kakashi had imagined: like a steel worker, quarryman or similar. But the surprising thing about him was the one thing Kakashi had not considered. He was almost a freak of nature in the reproductive department.

Public baths were a normal part of life in the Leaf and elsewhere on the continent. As a result, Kakashi had been exposed to various examples of male anatomy since birth. He thought he'd seen everything, representatives from all portions of the normal distribution. Kakashi knew that his own appendage was on the right hand side of the curve, in the 90th ninetieth percentile, at least. He was rather proud of that knowledge, in fact, though he hardly ever took the opportunity to share his blessing with others.

But this man was off the charts. He was just...huge. Stallion like, almost. If it weren't for the sheer ridiculousness of it, Kakashi might have felt discouraged.

Now he only felt concern. He glanced at Kurenai. Her eyes were wide open, although not in admiration. Her expression told Kakashi everything. This was going to be painful, exceedingly painful for Sakura.

Kakashi moved his hands into several signs used by ninja of the Leaf.

"Should we abort?" was his first question.

"No," Kurenai replied silently. "No signal." She pointed below her, indicating that the decision was Sakura's.

Sakura's eyes were as wide as lanterns, and a fleeting look of terror passed across her face as her eyes locked onto Kuro's pelvis and the weapon hanging there. He wasn't even fully erect, Kakashi noted.

But she didn't make a signal. Instead she gulped and lay back on the futon, ignoring the hard pillow meant to protect her coiffure

Kurenai slapped his hand, and Kakashi realized he was holding a kunai. She shook her head. She was the expert here, the copy ninja knew. Kurenai had been through a similar situation. She would jump in if something was wrong.

But something _was_ wrong. Kakashi shifted, his muscles screaming to be put into action. His slight movement prompted a hiss of anger from his partner.

"Restrain yourself," Kurenai commanded silently, the sharp movements of her hands managing to convey her annoyance. "I'm in charge here."

He really was expected to sit there and do nothing.

Sakura wasn't being raped: he knew this. She'd agreed to the mizuage.

But maybe she didn't realize what she was up against.

No, that couldn't be true. As a medic, Sakura did physical exams. She must have seen numerous examples of the male organ, erect and flaccid.

Maybe she could handle it. Women gave birth to children with heads as big as melons, didn't they? They must be able to accommodate junk of all sizes.

Her piercing scream told him otherwise, and Kakashi jumped immediately. Kurenai shoved him roughly back onto the rafter, her expression as menacing as her words.

"She knows what she's doing. We talked about this. It's never what you would think-- these men are usually animals." The scarlet light in Kurenai's eyes suggested her ordeal had been very similar.

Kakashi gripped the wooden beam above him as he felt the bile rise into his throat.

Animal was right. The man hadn't even bothered to get her ready. He just dived straight in. He did none of the things one was supposed to do with a virgin: get her into the mood, move slowly, give her body time to adjust and time to get over any pain. No, he was mounting her the way a tomcat would. The sight of him slamming against her, grunting and sweating as he pushed her legs farther and farther back was easily the most sickening thing Kakashi had seen in a long time.

This was not what he'd expected. It wasn't the embarrassing scene he'd imagined, but something approaching the depravity of rape. Kakashi couldn't imagine how his student was able to endure it.

Sakura's eyes were clamped shut, and she cringed with every movement. Her lip was bleeding, Kakashi noticed. Kuro hadn't bothered to kiss her, so that wasn't the reason.

Luckily, the middle-aged man didn't last long. Sakura had to endure only five minutes of pain before the client grunted out a final exclamation of extreme satisfaction and collapsed against her.

Kakashi released a long-held breath and allowed himself to relax slightly. At least the worst was over now, and Sakura would soon have the satisfaction of killing her target.

"Boys! Get in here."

Two thugs entered the room, and the look of terror on Sakura's face telegraphed across the distance between them, prompting two gravelly laughs from the men. They weren't dressed like the stereotypical bag mean. Instead of the cliché double breasted pin striped suit, these men wore jeans and simple t-shirts. They still looked menacing, however.

"You'll need to get on your hands and knees," Kuro said as he lifted onto his own. "Terajima will want to take you from behind. And Ishibashi-- he's an ass man, too. But in a different way." This elicited another chuckle from the visitors.

"Wait. I don't understand." Sakura's voice didn't tremble, Kakashi noticed, and she didn't sound plaintive. She seemed in full possession of her faculties.

"What's to understand? My men work hard for me. They deserve a reward every now and then."

"But...I wasn't finished. With you." She didn't bat her eyelashes, or pout her lips, but this was said in such a seductive way that she didn't need to. "Okaasan taught me something I wanted to show you. Can you feel it?"

Kuro groaned with pleasure as Sakura's hand made contact with his now flaccid cock. "What are you doing?"

"I want to make you come again. But this time, slowly. And I want to be on top."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. He'd heard of the kunoichi art of the second pleasure, although he'd never experienced it himself.

"You'll have to wait, boys. Take a seat." Kuro's men knelt, liege-style on the two pillows near the tea table. They planned to watch, Kakashi realized, and Kuro didn't seem to object. On the contrary, he probably derived great pleasure from it.

Sakura was bleeding, the copy ninja noticed as she rose from the bed and moved to straddle the now supine Kuro. There was a huge blood stain on the futon as well. But she was clearly ignoring any pain she felt. Kuro was oblivious, as well, focused only on the pleasure she was bringing him.

She slowly took her client's considerable girth into herself, and Kakashi saw the same expression she'd worn earlier as she danced for the man. She looked as though she were lost in a blissful dream, with her neck arched and her breasts thrust forward. She moved slowly at first, eliciting moans of pleasure from Kuro as she ground against him. But the mask slipped every now and then, and Kakashi's well-trained eyes caught glimpses of the agony she was suffering through. Her movements were slow and deliberate, intended to cause in her client the maximum pleasure possible, regardless of its effects on her. She reached for his hands, placing one on each of her breasts, and urged him to suckle her. He rose, partially, resting his weight on his hands as he took one immaculate globe into his mouth and partook greedily.

"Are you almost there?"

He grunted.

"I want to hear you scream. Okay?"

He muttered something as he released her saliva-slicked breast to take the other into his mouth.

Sakura smiled for his benefit and urged him to embrace her. She then ran her hands over her coiffure, as though she were checking to make sure the elaborate arrangement was still in place. With a swift movement and a glint of silver almost too fast to be observed, her hand moved to Kuro's back and struck against it.

He groaned, and Kakashi watched intently as the kunai in Sakura's hand entered his flesh twenty more times. Then she lifted herself off of his corpse, spun around and flung two shuriken, one from each hand. Each sharply toothed blade found the carotid artery of its victim, and as their blood pulsed in small fountains down their front, the men keeled over.

So did Sakura.

Kakashi didn't wait for a signal from Kurenai. He crashed through the room's false ceiling and immediately gathered Sakura's crumpled, naked form into his arms.

"Are you okay? Sakura?"

"Sensei..." She passed out, and Kakashi looked in horror at the blood now staining his arms. He set his former student down gently, grabbed her under-kimono and hastily wrapped her in it, stuffing most of the fabric between her legs. He had no idea what first aid to do in such a situation, and from the looks of it, neither did Kurenai. A dazed expression covered her face as she glanced around the room. She hadn't expected the men to enter the room or to be invited to...partake. Surely _that_ would have constituted rape, Kakashi thought wryly.

Time was wasting. Kakashi barked an order at Kurenai before rushing out of room, heedless of her status of mission leader.

"Grab the kimono and obi, then start the fire. Make sure it's a big one-- we don't want any evidence."

He shouldn't have let her go through with it. Sakura deserved better than this. There were easier ways to make jounin. He would have helped her if she'd asked, if she'd come to him for assistance.

But of course this wasn't true. He'd never really helped her, he realized.

It was silly to imagine something like that could change.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mizuage-- A Naruto FanFiction**

_Author's note: Thank you to everyone who took the time to read the first chapter of this story. __I__ know it wasn't easy reading. And thank you for reading this chapter as well: __I__ appreciate you sticking with it!_

Mizuage

Chapter 2

He should have gone to visit her sooner. That was obvious, and he didn't need every fifth ninja he came across telling him so.

Not that those were their exact words. Most of them asked, "How is she?" But to Kakashi, the delivery of this question seemed almost confrontational.

Still, he couldn't blame them for judging him.

She was his student, after all-- a former student, yes, but he bore responsibility for her. "Once a sensei, always a sensei," was how the saying went. Beyond that, he was supposed to have been the one who stood up for her during her assassination attempt. His job was to be there for her-- not only during, but after the mission.

He'd met this obligation partially. He'd carried her back to the village, running for eight hours without any breaks except to shift her in his arms. He'd worried the entire time: about her blood loss, about the fact that she kept sliding in and out of consciousness, and about the dilated pupils he saw every time she opened her eyes. Those suggested she'd gone into shock. All seemed like to high a price to pay to earn jounin status.

At the hospital he'd left Sakura in the care of the medics on duty, signing for her, then leaving the building as soon as possible. He knew he'd done all he could. Well that wasn't exactly true: he hadn't done what he _should_ have, earlier. He didn't jump in and stop a situation that he'd known was wrong from the start. But he wasn't going to stand by now, waiting for others to point this out to him.

Besides, he had no idea what he should say to her, once she got out of surgery.

The problem was that Hatake Kakashi was a man who was perhaps a bit too introspective, a man who thought more than he spoke, carefully mapping out the likely outcomes of a conversation before jumping into it. He'd thought and thought about this situation, but he still had no idea what he was supposed to say to her. Words completely failed him, no matter how hard he tried to come up with an appropriate expression of condolence and support.

_I'm sorry you had sex with that guy._

_How's your vagina?_

_Congratulations on making jounin._

None of those were in any way appropriate, not even the last, seemingly innocuous statement. She'd sacrificed too much to make jounin in Kakashi's opinion, and he had no plan to even broach that subject for fear of what might slip through his lips, unbidden.

Even a simple, "How are you feeling?" seemed loaded with innuendo. She felt like shit. Of course she did-- after what she'd been through there would be no question about that. Bringing up the experience, even obliquely seemed crass. Insensitive. No, worse than that. Invasive, malicious, even. Like someone sticking his finger into another's suppurating wound and wiggling it around.

What he wanted to say to her couldn't be said.

_I shouldn't have let you do it._

_It was wrong to go through with it._

_I'm to blame for all of this._

Despite his limited history with Sakura, he knew her well enough to be certain that she'd internalize any comments of this nature.

Back when he'd met her, she was one very messed-up twelve year old, although it was hard to see at first glance. She was an assemblage of contradictions, a girl of two minds. One Sakura was confident in her appearance and attractiveness to the opposite sex (that is, Sasuke) and willing to let the harder parts of her craft slide as she attempted to prove her feminine superiority over her rival. The other Sakura was occasionally confident but usually lost in inadequacy-- unsure of her talents, skills, even of her self-worth.

And the Sakura of later years? His interactions with that person were infrequent during the short lifetime of Team Kakashi, because the copy ninja had very little to do with that team, apart from giving it a name. He'd been called away again and again, or had volunteered for more critical missions. He'd seen Sakura's confidence on display when she cured Kankuro and then again when she smashed the barrier blocking the cave where Gaara lay lifeless. But in the down times he noticed her lingering insecurity, the self-castigation when she thought no one was looking, her words of shame at her inability to do more to bring Sasuke back. The twelve-year-old Sakura was still within, he'd realized, the lost little girl who wanted nothing more than to be recognized as useful.

He'd puzzled this together over the previous week. The two had never had a heart-to-heart talk or exchanged anything beyond the pleasantries that lubricated team interaction. He really didn't know her, but looking back he was sure his newly-formed image of her was correctly constructed.

He didn't want to hurt her further,o Kakashi stayed away. Not purposefully-- he had every intent to go and visit her, once he figured out just what he should say. There was no doubt that eventually he'd find the right words. But when one day turned into three, then five, it seemed like he'd waited too long. He couldn't visit now-- it would only call attention to his rudeness.

He wasn't surprised to be called to the Hokage's office six days after their return to the village. He'd been expecting it, in fact. Kakashi braced himself for the wrath of an over-emotional Naruto as he slouched into the large round office at the top of the administrative building and stood opposite the blond haired man who filled out his father's robes quite admirably.

But Naruto was still the master of the unexpected. He gazed at Kakashi the way a younger brother looks at his oniisan upon discovering his idol is made of clay. The copy ninja hadn't reckoned on the force of the younger man's adulation, nor on the effect of its sudden withdrawal. He suddenly felt a small pang of bereavement on top of the guilt laid thick over the previous week. He didn't like that the Hokage thought less of him.

"I don't understand why you couldn't bother yourself to see her." Naruto's voice was quiet, and there was no trace of kyuubi red in his eyes. That was a good sign, at least.

"Well, I..."

"Save it. I don't have the time or patience for your lame excuses. You'd probably try to tell me a black cat or old lady kept you away for the past week. She's _hurting_, Hatake, and she needs you. If nothing else, I thought Team Seven meant more to you. She was your student, damn it, one of your first three students."

"One of my only three students," Kakashi nearly corrected him, stopping himself just in time. There was no need to piss off the Hokage, not when he still had a jinchuuriki inside of him and the ability to produce jutsu well beyond Kakashi's capabilities. The copy ninja appraised his former student's expressive face while searching madly for a way to make up for the mess he'd created. Something that would appease both the Hokage and his own beleaguered conscience.

"She asked for it to be you." Naruto's voice was calm, although his eyes were flickering a warning. It was very likely that he couldn't hold on to this new demeanor for long.

Kakashi lifted an eyebrow at the Hokage's words. It was hard to believe Sakura had requested him. He assumed he was the last-- or only-- resort.

"She asked for you to be her witness," Naruto continued. "She wasn't completely comfortable with you watching, but her feelings of respect and trust in you were enough for her to overcome that." The sixth Hokage lowered his brow into the beginnings of a glower. "Can't you see that you owe her something?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to. It shouldn't have made a difference, anyway. Not to a professional like you." He'd never known the blond to use sarcasm before. He was settling into his new role of village leader quite nicely, Kakashi noted.

"What can I do?"

"Your mission isn't over. Not until she's well."

"She's still in the hospital?"

Naruto smiled bitterly. "She probably should be. She was really torn up. Laser--" He consulted a paper on his desk. " Severe lacerations and tearing, hematoma--' whatever that is-- of the … um, cervix. Ino said it was what you'd expect to see after a particularly brutal rape. Or a child molestation. 'Caused by an extreme anatomical mismatch,' is what the report says. That's a pretty polite way to put it."

Kakashi gulped, then grabbed the paper from Naruto's grasp. He read over it quickly, only half understanding its convoluted language peppered liberally with jargon. "Severe vaginal lacerations may result in life-threatening blood loss," stood out clearly, however. That explained the profuse bleeding. She could have died. From _sex_. He should have trusted his instincts. He shouldn't have let her--

"She released herself twelve hours after she arrived. Looks like she learned a thing or two from her old teacher. Obviously the hospital staff couldn't keep her. She could diagnose herself any way she wanted, and as she outranks most of them in terms of medical ninjutsu no one wanted to cross her. She's been at home, and staff have been coming by to check on her."

"And?"

"She's putting up a good front, but..."

"But?"

"She smiled when I gave her the certificate. Beamed. She said it was worth it. Everything had been worth it. But it wasn't a real smile. I know Sakura well enough to know when she's trying to pull one over. Her eyes weren't part of it. They were...strange."

"She didn't _really_ think it was worth it." How could she possibly?

Naruto shook his head emphatically. "No. I believe she meant that part, even though she smiled so strangely. At least part of her meant it. You didn't do wrong letting her go through with it." A light seemed to dawn in the Hokage's bright blue eyes. "That's what's wrong with you, isn't it? You feel guilty. God, you're an idiot sometimes."

Apparently that last remark was _also_ directed at Kakashi.

"It was brutal, Naruto."

"I know. Kurenai told me everything."

"I wanted to--"

"It wasn't your place to. You weren't the mission leader."

"There was nothing I could do."

"You taught me that. That it's foolish to run in, shuriken flying, when it's not your mission to command. That being a team member is as important as taking charge."

That had been a hard lesson, Kakashi remembered. How many times had Naruto's teammates attempted to remediate his impetuousness before the lunkhead finally figured it out?

"Don't you feel any remorse?"

Naruto's eyes widened and a storm cloud seemed to gather within his person. "For assigning her to the mission? Of course I do. The okiya didn't tell us everything. She obviously knew about that guy and what he'd done to other women. To her _own_ girl. I never would have assigned her if I knew--"

"You shouldn't have assigned her at all. It's barbaric to expect someone to..."

"Really? It's more barbaric than assassinating someone? Than training six year olds in guerilla tactics? Than destroying families through constant wars and skirmishes?" The Hokage glared at him, his calm demeanor finally broken.

"I _wouldn't_ have sent her," he continued. "But she was in the room when Kotetsu brought in the mission scroll. We were discussing it and she volunteered. She said she had to do it for her shishou. You know how she is."

"You're the _Hokage_."

"Damn right I am."

"You could have said no."

"But _someone_ would have had to do it. I'm not-- I'm not _allowed_ to play favorites. The elders watch me, you know. Always looking for me to screw up. I didn't have another mission to send Sakura on, so I couldn't say she was a better fit for that. She matched the eligibility criteria perfectly, and once the particulars were posted no one else came forward. Virgins are in short supply around here." Naruto scratched his head in frustration. "This job is nothing like I thought it would be."

Well, of course it wasn't: few careers romanticized by twelve-year-olds were. Naruto was still the right person for the job however, even if it wasn't what he'd dreamed. Kakashi was sure of this.

"I asked her to at least think about it. And she did. She came back the next week even more determined to do it. So I chose the best support team--"

Kakashi had to disagree with that. Naruto noticed his look of derision and quickly attempted to redirect the conversation.

"Like I said, your mission's not over. Sakura's not well. Your job is to bring her back to one hundred percent. She's the best medic we've got."

That she was also one of Naruto's dearest friends didn't need to be said. His expression communicated his concern perfectly.

"If she's still sick, shouldn't she have a nurse taking care of her?"

"Physically she's… okay. They took care of that the night you brought her in."

"So, it's psychological."

"As much as we can tell. She won't let anyone in to see her."

"Ibiki--"

"--is an interrogator. Big difference between that and a counselor." An image of the scarred (both physically and in many other important ways) operative somehow mending Sakura's psyche was hard to imagine, now that Kakashi contemplated the idea.

Naruto smiled at his one-time mentor as he shuffled the paperwork on his desk into somewhat less disorganized stacks. The volume of work coming into the office was as excessive as it had ever been. Kakashi doubted Naruto saw much of his wife or nascent family.

Kakashi sighed. "Let me get this straight. You're assigning a shinobi of my stature to be someone's nursemaid?"

"That's about it." Naruto's smile acquired a slightly malicious tinge, morphing his face into an expression Kakashi had never before seen on the young man. Not unless he was in tailed mode, anyway. He seemed to be getting some pleasure out of taking Kakashi down a peg or two. This was probably justified, Kakashi decided, given their former relationship. He respected Naruto, to be sure, and had been one of the first to see the Uzumaki's latent talents, but he'd always been honest about his protégé's shortcomings. It was therefore only fitting that the new Hokage pull rank on his former teacher. It was necessary to establish and solidify the chain of command. And perhaps this was a punishment for not seeing to Sakura sooner. If true, Naruto had grown more subtle in the intervening years in his methods of retribution.

Naruto interrupted Kakashi's contemplation with an earthshaking slam to the desk, something he might have learned from the former Hokage. "Except it's not just 'someone.' It's Sakura. She trusts you, Hatake. Isn't that the first thing that's needed in any counselor?"

"Yeah." Naruto, leader of the village hidden in the leaves was correct, which was to be expected given his status, although it was still somewhat unsettling. "How long?"

"How long?"

"The mission-- how long will it last?"

"Until she's well. As long as it takes-- a week, a year-- this is _Sakura_ we're talking about, damn it!" Ah. There was the Naruto Kakashi knew and loved.

"Understood. Will there be anything else?"

"Fix her, sensei." Naruto dropped his somewhat affected use of Kakashi's surname as a pleading tone came into his voice. "Just fix her."

* * *

The problem with a small village was not just that everyone knew your business, but that it was almost impossible to avoid the people you didn't want to see.

Kurenai was a good example. Kakashi had nothing to say to her, and had no desire to look her in the eye, let alone have a civil conversation with her. He would have taken to the rooftops if he'd known she was in the vicinity. But that's what he got for keeping his nose in a book instead of making the effort to discern and identify the many chakra signatures in the area.

Kakashi couldn't shake the feeling that the ruby-eyed genjutsu user had allowed the mission to continue for personal reasons. Her _own_ reasons, likely linked to her failed mizuage years earlier.

"Kakashi!" She was waving him down. He couldn't pretend he hadn't seen her now.

"Ah. Kurenai." Kakashi was glad he had _Icha, Icha Tactics_ handy.

"Give this to Sakura, would you?" She handed him two distinctive parcels, which he immediately recognized as kimono, elegantly wrapped for storage. "I stopped by her place, but no one was home."

"Really?"

"It's funny, because I heard she hasn't been seen for days. I assumed she was still recuperating. She's been home every time you've stopped by, right?" There was a hint of worry in Kurenai's voice. That was good. She _should_ be feeling some anxiety.

Kakashi muttered an "un," as he stared at Kurenai's ears, finally realizing without the aid of eye contact that she was expecting a more elaborate answer to her question. He decided not to oblige her. He instead attempted to end the conversation, by bringing his beloved book a little closer to his face.

"She's doing okay, isn't she?"

He grunted. "Well, it's one of those one-day-at-a-time things, I'd say." That was good and vague, Kakashi thought. He wasn't claiming to have visited Sakura, and it probably _was_ as he described.

"I'm heading over there now. I'll find her if she's still not home."

"Take good care of her, okay?"

Perhaps that was an admission of culpability, Kakashi thought as he walked away. Kurenai was a compassionate person. Her genin team had considered her a second mother. She must be feeling remorse over what had happened.

The copy ninja easily found Sakura's apartment-- the scrap of paper supplied to him by Naruto had an adequate, if crudely drawn, map. As Kurenai had told him, Sakura did not appear to be at home. No one answered when he knocked, and the blinds were drawn, preventing a quick peek through the window.

He was about to turn away when he felt it. A quick burst of chakra, followed by complete emptiness: this was a sure sign of a person masking his or her energy signature. It was hard to sustain for long. Like a person holding his breath, one had to come up for air every now and then. Waiting for these chakra-rich pauses was the key to tracking ones quarry.

"I'm coming in," Kakashi said, before freeing the lock with a jutsu known to every first year academy student. It made one wonder why locks were even used.

There was no answer to his announcement. Kakashi paused to give her a chance to get dressed, assuming she wasn't, and to allow his eye a moment to adjust to the dimly lit interior of the apartment.

His nose had no such problem, however. It was immediately assaulted by the stench of decay. It was one of the most offensive smells he could think of, worse than kusaya, durian or gingko fruit, odors likely to clear out the most congested of sinuses. Given his heightened sense of smell he was lucky he wasn't retching. The unforgettable scents of putrescine and cadaverine hung in his nostrils, prompting a sudden recollection of images of corpses from his ANBU days. Officers were trained to recognize the odors emanating from dead things, as well as the subtle differences in the odors given off by different species. The tiny bottles of each amine were the subject of a memorable, though pernicious practical exam.

But this was rotting fish, most likely: he smelled trimethylamine, as well. Kakashi moved past the open kitchen-- the likely source of the stench-- and into the small living room/bedroom where he found Sakura sitting slouched in an overstuffed recliner, clad in a dirty tank top and pajama bottoms.

The television was on, although the reception was as poor as it usually was. Konoha was too far from the major cities of Fire to receive a clear signal, and the programs broadcast were rarely worth watching anyway.

This was some kind of sales program. A woman with dark, shiny hair and bright plastic nails was selling jewelry, gushing over the discount offered as she tried to stir up a feeding frenzy among her viewers. A price flashed in the lower corner of the screen, as well as a tally of those who'd taken advantage of the amazing, once in a lifetime offer. The woman was wearing grandma jewelry, Kakashi noticed, large, lumpy gold rings set with huge stones on every finger, and her hands showed that she was a bit older than she dressed. She might be a relative of Gai with her preternaturally white teeth and clingy green garment. He'd have to ask him about that next time the man accosted him with a challenge as Gai's response might allow him an opportunity to retreat.

Sakura eyes were glued to the set, but she didn't appear to be watching. Her expression was vacant, as though she had fallen asleep with her eyes open.

Kakashi switched off the TV, noticing that it took his former student a good thirty seconds to react.

"What are you doing here?" she asked finally, her voice without affect.

"Just checking in." He scanned the room. It was fairly clean, although dusty. A blanket lay crumpled on the daybed and several half-empty glasses stood forlorn on the coffee table. No food dishes were in evidence, however.

"I'm fine. You can go."

She hadn't washed her hair, Kakashi noticed. A thick layer of pomade still clung to it, although it was no longer styled appropriately for a maiko. It hung around her like the fragments of a half-shattered helmet, moving in rigid, plasticized clumps as she turned towards him.

Her skin was unwashed, too. Bits of white makeup remained along her hairline, and the uncreased portions of her neck were still coated. The hospital staff must have cleaned her partially when she arrived, Kakashi decided. Perhaps they'd needed to judge her skin color.

It was obvious she wasn't herself. She barely seemed to be present.

"Have you eaten?" he called over his shoulder as he left the room. He already knew what the answer would be.

"I'm really not hungry."

Kakashi flipped on the kitchen light and immediately recognized the source of the putrid aroma that had greeted him upon entry. Several bento lay on the counter untouched, the white cardboard strip surrounding each not even broken. They were probably well-intentioned gifts from her visitors over the past few days. She hadn't bothered to refrigerate them. Kakashi set the kimono he still carried on the pass-through's counter top, then pitched the offending box lunches into the garbage can (empty, he noticed) and knotted its liner tightly. He suffocated a gag, then threw open the window and wiped down the counter with the strongest smelling cleaner he could find under the sink. He inspected the refrigerator once he was done. Predictably, it was bare. That made sense. She was gone for months: she'd probably cleaned out her kitchen before leaving and hadn't gone to the store to replace the items typically found in a fridge. It was obvious she hadn't left her place since her return from the hospital. Either that, or she never cooked.

The copy ninja rummaged around in a cabinet until he found a yellowed container of cup ramen, and returned to her side after preparing it. Sakura was as he had left her, still in the chair, still facing the television, although its screen was now a dead black-green.

"You need to eat."

"I am eating."

"What? What did you have for breakfast this morning?" There were no dirty dishes in the sink, he'd noticed, and the ones on the wooden dish rack were coated, like everything else in the apartment, with a fine layer of dust.

"Cup ramen."

"Really. So where's the cup?"

She looked at him, her eyes darkening into a glare.

"Where do you think it is? In the garbage."

"Ah. I see."

"Go away." Sakura turned back to the TV and clicked the remote. The over-accessorized sales woman appeared again, now squawking over the virtues of plastic dishware. A two-hundred piece set, one that could compartmentalize and hygienically store a refrigerator's worth of food, and then some. He looked away from the set and towards his patient. Her eyes weren't tracking the motion on the screen. She was hardly blinking either.

"Sorry, but I can't."

"Then leave me alone. Go read your porn. On the balcony."

"For the record, it's not porn. It's an erotic novel. Big difference."

She didn't answer, didn't roll her eyes like she might have in other circumstances.

"Why are you watching this crap?" He felt compelled to ask. Judging by the contents of her kitchen cabinets, Sakura didn't seem the type to covet plasticware. That was more _his_ thing.

"Why do you care?" It was more a statement than a question.

"There's probably a movie on." They played films noir, a favorite of his, at this time of day.

"I like this. Would you leave me alone now?"

"What's so great about it?" He could feel his mentally faculties dulling, just being in the same room as the obnoxious hawker on the screen.

"It's soothing."

"Oh." Maybe her mind needed deadening. Interesting that she found a voice as irritating as a kunai scraping against stone to be calming, but he'd heard of stranger tastes.

"Let's go for a run. You look like you could use some exercise."

"I'm tired. I'm going to lie down for a while."

"Exercise isn't optional for shinobi."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Anything else you'd like to share? The virtues of tree walking as chakra control exercise?" She turned back to the TV. "How about telling me why you're here? You didn't visit me in the hospital-- what explains your sudden interest?" This was asked without any sign of anger, as far as Kakashi could tell. Her expression was blank, her words like lines read for the first time by a novice actor.

"You're my responsibility, Sakura."

The new jounin left her seat and climbed onto the day bed, not bothering to rearrange its disordered bedclothes before lying on her side, face to the wall.

"Take your nap then. I'll come by at six or seven with dinner."

Kakashi left as quickly as possible, glad for a couple of hours alone to consider his strategy. She was worse than he'd expected. He'd seen Sakura angry plenty of times. He'd expected that would be her response to last week's mission. She would be in physical pain, of course, but everything else would be directed at him, the person who deserved it. Either that, or tears. He'd seen her cry many times in the past-- over Sasuke, over Naruto, even over silly frustrations.

But Kakashi had not expected a black hole. This was what he felt in her presence. Her lack of emotion seemed to inhale everything surrounding her. He felt drained, almost stupid, as though his thoughts and feelings were being pulled into a dense abyss. And he was sure that wasn't due to the saleswoman, now that he thought about it. He'd felt this way before.

Kakashi clattered down the stairs to her apartment and set off on the run he'd suggested. He needed to get the blood flowing again.

* * *

The lights were off when he returned to her place, a bag of groceries in one arm.

She was still in bed, he realized as he illuminated the apartment's small living area, still clothed in the ratty, food-stained clothes she'd been wearing earlier that day.

"Are you awake?"

She grunted unintelligibly.

"Get up and shower while I'm fixing dinner."

"Why? We're not going anywhere, are we?" Her voice was muffled by the pillow that half covered her face and truculent. That barely qualified as an emotion. But it was a small step, as he'd told Kurenai. A very small step.

"Because you stink." Whoever said women "glow," not "perspire," was dead wrong. This unbathed kunoichi smelled like week-old onion soup.

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"I forgot to do the laundry before I left." She rolled over, turning her back to him.

Kakashi opened the louvered doors facing the bathroom, where he was certain a washer and dryer would be. The layout on Konoha's apartments was fairly rigid. Apart from its location, this one could be the place he'd lived in until most of the village was destroyed. Although newer, this flat was extremely similar and as shoddily constructed.

Kakashi opened the washer and found that Sakura was half right about the laundry. He inhaled another pungent odor-- her apartment seemed full of them-- this time of dried mildew. She'd probably started a load before leaving, months before. Once white towels were now streaked with noxious fungal growth. The hamper next to the washer was stuffed full of clothes as well, but at least those were still wearable. Once they were washed.

Fine, he decided. He'd do her laundry. Home nurses typically did those types of chores, didn't they? But there was no detergent, he noticed, and by now the stores were closed. He huffed with displeasure. He'd bring some of her clothes back to his house and return them the next morning. Kakashi grabbed the drawstring bag hanging over the dryer and quickly stuffed it full of dirty clothes, careful not to look too closely at her undergarments. He had no desire to know her bra size, or style of panties she favored. Shimapan, probably. She wasn't the frilly type.

He mentally chastised himself. This was a mission, simply a mission. No need for extraneous information.

Sakura was standing in the kitchen, looking lost when he returned to that room.

"What's that?" She waved vaguely at the two paper wrapped packages lying on the pass-through.

"Your kimono and obi. Kurenai asked me to give them to you. I can help you sell them, if you like. They should bring you enough for a down payment on a house or _manshon_."

Sakura picked up a package before walking slowly and aimlessly into the living area.

She reminded him of a zombie, Kakashi decided with her empty eyes and shuffling walk. But unlike those creatures of Orochimaruan manufacture, at least she'd taken an interest in something.

He'd decided on stir fry for dinner, one of his specialties, and an entree that required one's full attention while cooking. Apart from that, it was a noisy dish. The wok sizzled as the bite sized pieces of chicken and vegetables caramelized, and with his back to the pass through, he had no idea what Sakura might be doing. Probably sleeping again. She had a textbook case of depression, he decided. Having witnessed this disease ravage both of his parents, he was more than familiar with both its symptoms and etiology.

He added green onions and shelled edamame to the pan and allowed them to steam in the juices given off by the dish's other ingredients.

"Sakura. Make yourself useful and set the table." Kakashi cleared off the tiny, drop leaf table pushed against the wall as he spoke. As he expected, she didn't answer.

He wiped his hands on the checkered dish cloth he'd wrapped around his waist and peered through the pass through. She was kneeling on the floor, her back to him, and was surrounded by a flood of green-gold fabric. Sakura was admiring the garment, probably. She'd get an excellent price for it. Even from the kitchen Kakashi could tell the workmanship was superb. The couched gold pearl purl glittered in the incandescent light and the fabric itself shimmered almost as though it were the iridescent, gold-flecked skin of a butterfly larva--

A sharp tearing noise rent the air followed by a strip of fabric that arced in a fluttering parabola before coming to rest in a disordered pile.

Shit.

Kakashi bolted into the room and grabbed the kunai Sakura still clutched in her hand.

"Do you have any idea how much that kimono is worth?"

She shrugged. "It's mine. I like it better this way."

It was slashed, he saw, its once perfect surface shredded like lettuce run through a benriner.

"Give me the blade. Where are the rest of your weapons?" She ignored him, so he quickly searched the living area, turning up her cache quite quickly. If she was intentionally damaging things of value, it was only a matter of time until she turned a weapon on herself.

He sighed. Of course, a ninja didn't need a weapon to kill. One of the things third-year academy students were tested on was using ones bare hands. It was a critical skill. And as a medic, Sakura had an even greater arsenal of techniques. He'd heard Tsunade boast once about being able to concoct a poison from the plants growing in the cracks in the sidewalk, or from any fruit or vegetable. Her student was surely just as skilled. Still, taking away Sakura's kunai and shuriken was a good idea. It would be stupid to leave the most accessible methods open to her.

He'd need to watch her twenty four-seven, Kakashi realized as yet another repellent smell hit his nose. This one was acrid and protein-based. He looked up to see billows of black smoke entering the living room.

Dinner was ruined.

Kakashi ran back to the kitchen and threw the offending pan into the sink. It hissed as it hit the murky dishwater, and probably buckled as well.

"Get your shoes on." He grabbed Sakura's hand, forcing her to get up.

"You're coming with me."

* * *

This was a much better place. Kakashi was lucky enough to own one of the few houses unscathed by the destruction of Konoha. It was his parents' home and it stood atop the bluffs holding the visages of the first through fifth Hokage. He'd rented the place out after their deaths, preferring to stay closer to the heart of the village, and apart from the memories that haunted the place. It was pressed into service, of course, as Konoha was being rebuilt-- it had held five families at one point-- and Kakashi had only moved back a few months before. Any lingering spirits were long exorcised by that point, he told himself. He might as well take advantage of the home's awesome view and perfect isolation. People did not stop by for idle chats. The five hundred steps up the cliff face saw to that.

None of the furniture was from his childhood, just the walls, ceilings and floor remained, and they were fairly nondescript. This was just a traditional, low-roofed home, the kind found throughout most of the fire country. The kind anyone might live in.

He was glad he'd kept the place. A foreign environment, one completely controlled by him, would be good for Sakura. He would lock away the weapons (and her obi), and put her on a tight rehabilitation schedule.

"How's it going in there?" Kakashi rapped on the bathroom door. He heard no splashing or dripping of water-- not a good sign.

"I'm coming in. I won't look." He lifted his gaze to the ceiling as slid the door open and entered the bath.

She made a sound approximating a laugh. A sharp, barking noise.

"You've already seen everything."

Her back was to him, he noticed as he glanced at the deep ofuro he'd used since his childhood. The upper half of her body was dry: she'd been just sitting there for the past half hour.

The copy ninja knelt beside the tub and tentatively dipped a finger into the water. It was ice cold, its heat absorbed by thick, enamel-over-cast-iron walls-- too cold for even a summer evening.

"Excuse me." He reached past her to open the tap. She didn't seem to notice he was there, neither moving out of his way nor flinching as he inadvertently brushed against her.

"I'm going to wash your hair, Sakura."

She didn't object. Kakashi grabbed the bamboo bucket that sat on a nearby stool and dipped it into the now slightly warmer water filling the tub.

"Tilt your head back and close your eyes." He gently poured the water over her still-lacquered hair, careful to avoid her face. For a moment he thought of his mother doing the same for him when he was a small child. He'd always refused to wash his hair under the hand-held shower, preferring the closeness of his okaasan as she leaned over him in the tub. She'd mutter something about the water being unusable for the rest of the family now that soap had been added, but he'd sensed that she liked their interaction, too. It was one of the few times they had together each week, as he was already in the academy by then.

Kakashi squirted shampoo into his hand, a masculine-smelling concoction that probably wouldn't suit Sakura, but it was all he had. Pakkun had used up the Floral Green the last time his wife threw him out, and Kakashi had not thought to purchase more. He never had house guests apart from the occasional visit by a member of his pack, so it didn't seem necessary to stock up on the creature comforts.

The copy ninja, now elbow deep in women's work carefully massaged his patient's scalp, then ran his fingers from root to end of each cluster of hair. The waxy pomade was washing out, thankfully. He felt Sakura's hair grow silkier as he continued to wash.

"Lean back again." He carefully rinsed the detergent away, then picked up a washcloth and lathered it up. "Since you're just sitting there, I'll do your back. Like I said, I won't look."

He scrubbed her clean, focusing most of his efforts on the white paint that still clung to her neck and shoulders. He handed her the washcloth once he was done.

"Wash your front. And your face, and everywhere else. Unless you want me to do it."

She sat motionless.

"Sakura..."

This was completely inappropriate.

"Pick up the rag." He tried a gruffer tone and thankfully it worked.

She ran the washcloth over her face and the rest of her body, slopping it into the water intermittently.

"Satisfied?" she asked, turning to him and treating him to a view of breasts glistening with rivulets of water.

"Great." Kakashi looked away immediately, found a towel and held it in her general direction. "Cover up, please." He leaned over, pulled the tub's stopper and made a hasty exit.

Her clothes were still damp, having spent only a few minutes in the dryer, but he decided this didn't matter. It was warm out, after all, the type of evening best spent outside, admiring the stars.

"You're not going to leave your hair like that, are you?" A wet, tangled mess dripped onto the tank top she wore, marking it with translucent stripes. Kakashi grabbed a wide-toothed comb (the only type that could handle his unruly hair) and escorted Sakura onto the porch that ran the length of the house. She sat on a low stool he pointed out to her and he knelt behind her, gently working at the tangles, careful to avoid tugging at her scalp.

She said nothing as he worked, but he understood why. The view was astounding. The lights of the village below them resembled a field of stars, arranged in a slightly more orderly pattern than those that littered the sky. A breeze was often present at this elevation, and tonight was no exception. It was warm and soothing, reminding Kakashi of evenings spent with family in the same place.

His mother had long hair, lustrous and almost blue-black. It reached beyond her waist, and his father had anointed himself its caretaker. On warm nights, they'd sit as Kakashi and Sakura were doing now. The elder Hatake told his family of his day (assuming his activities were cleared for public dissemination) and his wife listened dotingly. Son looked on, pleased to be part of this intimate circle.

It was obvious to Kakashi that his parents were in love. The looks that passed between them hinted of a closeness that few achieved in their relationships. She was rightfully devastated when her husband took his own life, even though it was an act meant to reinstate their honor.

Kakashi shook his head. It had been years since he'd allowed himself to think of her. But Sakura's presence seemed to stir up ghosts long put to rest. He'd thought he made peace with his mother's abandonment. He understood why it happened. She couldn't handle looking at a son who so resembled his father. And the shunning had been too much for a woman as social as she.

She'd gone to Seto city, once part of the Whirlpool nation, to look for work and to get away from memories that threatened to drown her. And she'd died there soon after, leaving her son completely alone.

But Kakashi survived, thanks to Minato-sensei and his wife. They didn't object when he took to wearing a mask. They helped him find a small flat more manageable than the house his mother left to him, and they were with him on every occasion that mattered.

_Where was all of this coming from?_

Sakura's hair was sleek now, its tangles unknotted, its strands rearranged into an orderly, silken mass, and half dried by the light summer wind. She still hadn't spoken. She might as well be a statue, or a life-size doll.

"Are you ready to go in? It's late, and I have a lot planned for you tomorrow."

No reply.

Kakashi stood, stretching his battle-worn frame. Middle age was encroaching. Tomorrow's exercise would be good for him as well.

"Sakura?"

Her face was wet, he saw as she turned to him, her eyes red, lips trembling.

It was something. A small step.

Releasing the pain was the first step in healing.


	3. Chapter 3

Mizuage, A Naruto Fan Fiction

_Author's note: Thank you for your patience!_

Chapter 3

Kakashi'd never had a roommate before, but he had to admit he was enjoying the experience. He loved to cook, but night after night of making dinner for one was a bit boring. With Sakura in the house he felt motivated to show off a bit and dust off the recipes he hadn't used in years.

She was a good eater, particularly after a long day spent sparring, running, lifting weights or doing whatever other tasks Kakashi thought up on a given morning. The object was to exhaust her: a tired body produced a tired mind, one less likely to dwell on depressing thoughts. He realized long after the fact that this was how Minato-sensei had helped him through his parents' deaths. Kakashi wished he'd known of this trick sooner: he might have tried it on his mother, before she'd given in. Of course, she was a civilian and not the type to seek out extraneous exercise. But she'd spent so much time in bed after her husband's death, brooding over her loss and unable to connect with the other person he'd left behind. Soon release was all she thought of. She'd left Konoha, but distance wasn't enough to stop her downward spiral. Kakashi had learned of her death after three months of no communication from her. Although it was possible that a simple accident had claimed his mother's life as the coroner's letter suggested, he'd known better, even as a six year old.

Maybe things would have turned out differently if he'd kept her from leaving. He could have dragged her from bed, and forced her to run a lap or three around the village. He smiled as he imagined his mother clopping along unsteadily in the high heels she favored. He'd never once seen her in sandals or other running shoes. She was about as non-athletic as villagers came.

Sakura, however, _was_ an athlete, and quite a fine one, although she seemed oblivious to the fact. He didn't hold back when they were sparring-- that wouldn't be fair, and besides, it would anger her. But when she continued to lose bout after bout Kakashi could sense her tenuously held self esteem slipping away.

He'd thought quickly to devise a salvage plan, and this is why he was currently nursing a black eye. She'd nearly crushed his eye socket. He'd pointed out the need for her to improve her taijutsu—not her form, which was excellent, but her skill at looking for weaknesses in her opponent's. If she could get close enough to land a blow she'd be fine, what with her chakra-focusing abilities.

But getting close was the problem. She just wasn't fast enough. So they'd worked on her speed that morning. He directed her to practice the same strike again and again, a defensive hand strike to the jaw, and by the five hundredth attempt, he'd become a bit lazy in blocking. She moved the same way every time, smoothly and with perfect execution, but almost robotically, and Kakashi guessed that muscle memory had taken over. He moved his arms to block her shuto, almost mirroring her moves, and momentarily considered pulling out his book. But that would defeat the purpose of the exercise. Such half-present behavior had the intended effect when he'd used it on Naruto during the first bell test: he'd hoped to show the new genin just how underwhelming he was. But Sakura didn't need to learn that lesson. Her ego needed building, not crushing.

When Sakura jerked, angling the direction and speed of her last blow, the copy ninja was caught off guard, lost as he was in his thoughts. He heard bone crunch as the edge of her open hand met not his jaw but his upper cheekbone, and a throbbing pain seconds later. Thankfully, she hadn't put much chakra into the strike.

Although it hurt like hell, Kakashi was glad she'd accomplished the task he'd set out for her. The look on her face-- concern mixed with unvarnished pride-- was worth photographing. She'd knit his face back together immediately, reconstructing the edges of his eye socket in the slow, perfectionist manner that made her such a good medic, but she'd run out of chakra before she was able to heal his flesh. Hence the black eye. Kakashi wondered why Tsunade had waited to share her chakra storage technique with her protégé-- it certainly would have mitigated Sakura's only remaining weakness, the fact that her chakra reserves were less than those of most ninja.

But the Hokage had made a snap decision in saving Naruto's life, and a good one at that. Kakashi smiled ruefully. Had she known the time and conditions of her impending death, Lady Tsunade surely would have made the time to impart the knowledge of chakra storage to her most favored student. But once again someone else's immediate needs (in this case, those of the village) had come before Sakura's. This seemed to be a constant refrain in the girl's life.

Well, Kakashi decided, for once he could fix things. He would share his own technique with her. It might not be as attractive as the sparkling bindi worn by the fifth Hokage, and it wouldn't store anywhere near as much chakra, but it would work and it would be _something_. All Sakura would need is a tattoo, a small, open shape to serve as boundary for the artificially concentrated chakra. He should be able to talk her into that. Something feminine and unobtrusive, like a flower or butterfly. It needn't be large.

But, Kakashi suddenly remembered, he'd once heard Sakura deride tattoos. Years before, on a day when the smell of shoyu ramen had beckoned to him, he'd lifted the Ichiraku's noren to see Sakura and Ino slurping noodles and engaged in earnest, somewhat loud conversation. Ino had lifted her shirt to show off her latest artwork and Sakura snorted, nearly inhaling her ramen as Ino's breasts popped into view. Kakashi didn't catch a glimpse of them, thankfully, as he'd been just walking into the shop at that moment, but Sakura's bulging eyes had allowed him to infer that she was fairly jealous of what she saw.

How old was she then? Fifteen, probably. A late bloomer, still gangly-legged and gawky, a third-instar larva to Ino's full-blown butterfly.

As Sakura choked, Kakashi had taken a step backwards into the street, glad of the indigo curtain that now separated him from the pair.

"Tramp stamps-- that's what my mom calls them," he heard Sakura murmur once she recovered her breath. "She'd kill me if I got one."

"You worry too much about what other people think. You always have. You're a ninja-- you _kill_ people for a living--"

"I _heal_ people for a living."

He could almost hear her flip her ponytail in response. "You know what I mean. You may have a preference, but you're trained to do both. So why should you care what a civilian thinks, even if she _is_ your mom?"

Kakashi couldn't hear the reply, but Ino's next words suggested she'd done little to convince her friend of the merits of body art.

"What about joining ANBU? You'd need to be tattooed for that."

"Medics don't usually join ANBU. I would have thought you'd known that by now, _kohai_. And I'm sorry to say this, but that tattoo looks kind of slutty. Why would you put a naked lady on your boob?"

Kakashi imagined Ino's vivid blush at the mention of both her inferior rank and lack of good taste. Sakura was good at twisting the knife when necessary.

"You wouldn't even get a tiny tattoo? It's funny. Your team never does anything together. Not like team 10. We all got our ears pierced, and now these tattoos..."

It was Kakashi's turn to blush, although his mask hid most of it from view. Thankfully the street was almost empty: Ichiraku's lunchtime queue had not yet formed. The copy ninja quickly decided to leave the premises before hearing what Sakura would say in response to Ino's comment. The convenience store had a bento that would do nicely for lunch, and the library rooftop, in the cooled shade produced by two immense chestnuts, would be the perfect location for a solitary meal.

If they weren't team 10, at least team 7 had become functional, finally. A team didn't have to go out for barbecue weekly, or get pierced together to show their loyalty and closeness. It was what happened in the clutch that mattered most. _His_ team always pulled it together in the end. Sakura knew this-- Kakashi was certain of this.

He almost wished he'd stayed to listen to her response.

Now Kakashi smiled as he realized the perfect plan to get her inked: proximity, combined with a small amount of trickery.

"I thought we'd run into town tomorrow," he mentioned in an offhanded way as they sat on the porch. Each held a woven bamboo plate of noodles, although Kakashi had not yet begun to eat. He'd do that once her attention was elsewhere. "Are you game?"

Sakura shrugged, her mouth full of the iced somen he'd prepared in preparation for the night's sticky heat.

"I do have an errand," she said finally. "I need to stop by the hospital for a follow-up."

Kakashi regarded her intently. This was the first time she'd mentioned anything, however tangential, about the incident. But she seemed completely calm, as though her visit would be routine.

"Before that, would you mind accompanying me to the tattoo studio?" He pointed to the swirling ANBU motif on his upper arm. "I need to have this re-inked. It's faded a bit."

"Why do you need company?"

He put on his best bashful expression. "Well, I have... that is, I really don't like that electric needle they use."

Sakura giggled, and Kakashi noticed the light in her eyes. There was nothing better than self-degradation to evoke laughter from others.

With a start, he realized he was quite willing to continue, if it brought her pleasure.

"Are you sure you need me there?"

"I'd appreciate it."

"Okay, then." She slurped her noodles, washing them down with cool barley tea. "I'd be happy to." She rose to bus her plate. "I'm going to shower now. I'm completely exhausted."

That was her way of giving him privacy, Kakashi knew. Over the weeks they'd been together, they'd come to an unspoken agreement about his dining habits.

"Come back out when you're done, and I'll do your hair." That had also become a bit of a ritual between them. They'd talk quietly each evening as he knelt behind her on the wide-planked porch, smoothing the tangles and snarls from her finely textured mane.

She smiled in response- the same warm smile that accompanied her honest laughter.

"You do a better job at it than me."

* * *

He didn't have to bring up the idea: as soon as Sakura entered the tattoo parlor, she gravitated to the wall covered with images. This didn't surprise him-- people often decided they needed a tattoo once they were surrounded by so many possibilities. She quickly picked out a small image of a cherry blossom, and asked Kakashi what he thought of it. It was perfect for the purpose he intended-- outlined simply and uncolored, and just large enough to hold a week's worth of chakra.

Still, her expression was hesitant. Although her mother was long gone, it seemed her influence remained.

"That one's nice-- a complement to your name. Who named you, anyway? Your mom or dad?"

"Oh, my mom. But it was kind of an obvious choice, you know?"

"Sometime the obvious choices are the best ones."

Sakura smiled at that.

"Where should I put it?"

That was tricky. The tattoo wouldn't look like a normal one, once filled with glowing, iridescent chakra. This wouldn't be a problem within the village, but on undercover missions, such a decoration would bring unwelcome attention.

Apart from that, he could still sense her reluctance. An out of the way place would be best.

"How about your ankle?" His own tattoo, in the shape of a small, simple shuriken was just below his collarbone, equally out of sight considering the mask he always wore. "Just have them do the outline today. After it heals you can have the color put in." Or not, once she filled it with chakra. He smiled as he considered her likely surprise at learning the true purpose of the mark. It would do so much to boost her confidence.

"Shall I have it done now, or do you need me to hold your hand?" Kakashi's technician stifled a guffaw at this question, prompting the copy ninja to wave Sakura away with brusqueness necessitated by the situation.

"Not at all," He removed his vest and rolled up the short-sleeved t-shirt underneath. "She was just joking, you know," he said _sotto voce_ to the man now swabbing his arm with disinfectant.

This was the only place in town to have such work done if one was ANBU-- the artist who contracted with black ops also owned his own shop, as official work came seasonally, and then only in fits and starts. It was therefore not a problem for him to see the distinctive tattoo on Kakashi's upper bicep, or to recolor its somewhat faded coloration. He'd originally inked it, after all. He saw mostly ninja, ANBU or not and his reputation as an artist was quite widespread. He therefore was abreast of most of the gossip that filtered through the town, and almost as well-informed as the Yamanaka machine. The artist glanced knowingly at Kakashi and then at Sakura, nodding his head as though confirming some hypothesis that had been bandied about within the walls of the shop. The copy ninja wondered idly just what gossip was circulating, then decided he didn't care to know. A mission was a mission, after all: reckless words wouldn't stop him from finishing his job, and denying whatever juicy tidbits which were out there would make them more believable to the typical fence-rail conversant.

Sakura sat in the chair next to Kakashi and winced as her technician got to work after quickly stenciling a cherry blossom onto the outer curve of her ankle. The man turned her chair away from Kakashi as he worked, allowing the copy ninja an opportunity to catch up on his reading. But the kunoichi was done long before him and her eyes momentarily widened with confusion when she saw the relaxed, utterly non-distressed look on his face.

"I see you've conquered your fear. Well I'm going to the hospital now. I should be done in an hour or so. Should I meet you here?"

"No, I'll be finished long before then. How about Ichiraku?"

"Sure. I haven't had ramen in a while. And it has cooled off a little." She walked out into the late morning rain, with the smallest of smiles on her face. Kakashi sank back in his chair and closed his eyes. Truth be told, the needle did bother him-- he'd opened his book to take his mind off of it. It was also one of several reasons why he avoided the hospital. The sight of an IV burrowed into his arm, puncturing a blood vessel, sickened him. His stomach squirmed even now at the thought of it. It was irrational, to be sure, considering the number of blood vessels (both his own and others') that he'd severed over the course of his career. But like all irrational beliefs, there was no explaining it.

"All done here." The tattoo artist applied gentle pressure to his handiwork, before rubbing it with a cooling emollient cream and covering it with a bandage. "You know the drill. Use the salve, and keep it clean."

Kakashi walked out into the misty morning and past the bookstore, which was inexplicably closed. He wandered to the market in an attempt to waste some time, and picked up the ingredients for the dinner he was planning. He then headed towards the ramen stand where he had promised to meet Sakura. He might as well eat now. That would preclude any awkwardness over refusing to show Sakura his face. Not that she'd ask. She seemed to be over the burning need to unmask him which she and the other members of team seven once harbored.

Ayame, on the other hand, had seen his face scores of times without ever asking. The first time was by accident, but once the server had gotten over her initial shock and picked up her jaw from the floor, she'd been fine. She hadn't made a big deal about it, apart from being more attentive to him than she'd been in the past. She typically added a few extra goodies to his dish-- extra egg or pork, sometimes both. As Kakashi was not one to turn down a free meal, or even a reduced price one, this pleased him greatly. And he found it quite convenient to have a place where he could sit down and eat. Always getting takeaway and carrying it off to some out of the way place was tiresome: it was nice to eat in a real restaurant (if only a ramen joint) once in a while without people pointing and staring.

Kakashi pushed aside the noren advertising the name of the Hokage's favorite noodle shop and sat down on the stool furthest to the right.

The server came immediately, her bright smile making her look prettier than she often seemed.

"Hatake-sama!"

"It's Kakashi. Remember, I told you?"

Ayame blushed. "Kakashi. It's been so long since you've been here! I heard you were in town and I didn't understand it. I thought perhaps our service had displeased you in some way."

"No, definitely not. I have been on a mission-- taking care of a sick student."

"Oh. And is he better?"

"Improving. Definitely."

The server giggled. "I never would have thought of you as a nurse. It seems so unlike a ninja."

"Some of our best shinobi are medics and nurses. And all of us are trained in basic first aid."

Ayame blushed in reply and Kakashi frowned. He hadn't meant for that to come out as harsh as it sounded. She was a civilian and doubtless had many false impressions about the lives of the ninja visiting her family's shop. She couldn't be blamed for misunderstanding something so basic to their craft. But she was right about one thing: more women than men were medics, and of course the nurses were almost exclusively female. It just made sense: women were nurturers by nature, after all.

"Our special today is tonkatsu ramen," Ayame said as she set a bud vase in front of him. It held a single white flower, as usual.

"I'll have that, then. And some tea."

"Right away!"

She hurried back with his order and Kakashi mentally noted the double portion of tonkatsu within. Perhaps it was an apology for her previous statement. She was hovering nearby, eager for his approval.

He took an exploratory sip of soup.

"Great, as usual."

"Ayame, quit pestering the customers!"

Kakashi heard Teuchi's voice from the back of the shop. They must be shorthanded, he thought, if the owner was doing the cooking duties.

"Yes, papa!"

Ayame blushed again and hurried off to help one of the three customers that had entered after Kakashi. She must be feeling flustered. She set their places with the customary napkin and chopsticks, but not with a vase of flowers.

_Strange girl,_ Kakashi thought as he tucked into his meal. He'd heard something about her getting married the previous year, to a man from Bordertown. But apparently that had fallen through, as she was still here in Konoha.

Naruto was probably happy about this. It was reputed that the Ichiraku recipes were of her invention: the place likely wouldn't be the same without her.

"Sensei."

Kakashi had just lifted the bowl to his mouth when Sakura walked in, indigo curtains fluttering behind her. He turned away slightly to cover his face, then greeted her, patting the stool beside him as he did so.

"Hungry?"

"You didn't wait for me?" She seemed a bit put out. But he hadn't eaten a single meal with her since she'd moved in. Why would this be any different?

"Well, you know how I am about eating in public."

Ayame was standing stock still, he noticed, a dripping ladle in her hand. He watched as her initially blank expression changed quickly into a look of surprise and then slowly into a satisfied, almost smirking smile.

"Well, what will you have?" Kakashi offered to Sakura. "It's on me."

"I'll have the special, I guess," she said to Ayame, who immediately rushed off. A loud crash issued from the rear quarters of the shop, followed by a hissing sound and several loud swears.

Ayame returned with the bowl of ramen, which Kakashi noticed contained considerably less pork than his own, not even half a cutlet.

"I assume you're on a diet," she said to Sakura with a sweet smile as she busied herself in rearranging the small bottles of shoya and sriracha sauce that stood on the counter.

Sakura looked at her steadily then slowly answered, "No, I don't need to diet. My job keeps me in excellent shape."

"Yeah, she's got a great appetite, this one." Kakashi patted Sakura appreciatively on the shoulder.

Ayame looked at him, then at Sakura, and walked away.

"For future reference, it's rude to talk that way about a woman." Sakura's gaze matched her words. It was incredulous yet oddly intrigued, like that of a scientist discovering a bizarre mutant, in this case one born without the basest social graces.

"Is it? Women are always talking about how they want to be treated exactly like men."

Sakura looked at her soup, stirring the clump of noodles nestled at the bottom of the warm amber liquid.

"But that's not really possible, is it?"

He'd pushed some button, he belatedly realized. The mood had changed as soon as he uttered that comment. And her response didn't suit the tone of the rest of the conversation, which had been relatively lighthearted.

She was quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

The rainy day turned into an oppressively humid evening, and Kakashi was surprised when Sakura forewent her usual evening shower and chose to turn in early instead.

She'd picked at her dinner, despite the fact that he'd made her favorite anko-filled dumplings for dessert, and retired abruptly, leaving Kakashi the evening for himself.

He sat on the porch for a while, watching as the sun slowly melted into the horizon and familiar shadows merged with the creeping darkness. There was no breeze to stir the paper wind catchers of the furin hanging from the roof's eaves, and little noise apart from the plaintive cries of a night jar.

Kakashi retired soon after Sakura, finding sitting on the porch with only his thoughts for company less than stimulating. He showered, clad himself in a loose indigo yukata and lay atop his covers as he tried to read.

It would be almost impossible to sleep tonight. It would be better to stay up all night playing cards or doing some other activity that required little brainpower and even less movement. The thin cotton yukata was already sticking to his skin in the places where his body touched the bed. The copy ninja sat upright and pulled off his mask, which had soaked through with perspiration.

He opened the room's windows wide and turned off the light, thankful at least for the quiet outside, and the absence of biting insects.

But he couldn't sleep. It wasn't only the heat, however. It was the crying.

Every night for the first week of Sakura's visit, Kakashi had heard her muffled sobs. It was impossible not to hear most noises through the thin wall that separated her room from the master where he slept. Her sobs (or at least their volume) had tapered off, however, as the week progressed. Because he'd forced her to exercise, to run and spar and climb up and down the five hundred steps that meandered around the rock faces of the last five Hokage, she slept fairly soundly at night. She'd cry for a while but soon slip into a torpor. He had checked on her each night of that first week, a half hour or so after the noises stopped. If she wasn't yet well, at least she wasn't any worse.

And she _was_ getting better. All the signs were there.

He hadn't needed to talk to her about the source of her unhappiness. His mother had always said that the sooner a person verbalized his feelings, the sooner he mastered them. But since that first night on the porch, Sakura hadn't shown a tearful face to him. She might cry at night, but by day she seemed fine. Perfectly fine.

That's what he'd thought until tonight.

Until now she'd laughed, occasionally at first, but then more frequently as the week progressed, real laughter that involved the eyes and nose and occasionally her belly. And her nightly bouts of crying had ended completely after that first week of distress.

Kakashi rolled over in bed, and wondered if he should pay her a visit. He'd tried, the first few nights he heard her sobs, but she'd refused him entrance, claiming everything was okay. Her wide green eyes told him otherwise: they had that extra sparkle produced by heightened emotion, as well as a touch of pink in their sclera, but they also told him that he would be wise to back off. Yet the timbre of tonight's sobs was different. These weren't melancholy. Instead they were the tears of desperation, a high-pitched, half-strangled keening.

He'd heard his mother cry like that. For her, it came after three solid months of being ignored. She was used to being an object of gossip-- coming to Konoha from Bordertown as the sixteen year old bride of a much older ninja had seen to that-- but being shunned was a completely different thing. After Sakumo's return to the village and judgment by the elders many people had stopped talking to her. She'd done her best to stay positive, focusing instead on the few villagers who remained polite, if not friendly. But she reached a tipping point when even these refused to acknowledge her presence. She had gone to the open-air market and was refused service by the one grocer who'd previously overlooked her husband's indiscretion, leaving her no way to purchase food for her son. This happened a week after Sakumo's death, proving that his seppuku did not have the effect he intended.

She'd come home, basket empty, and had run straight to her bedroom. Kakashi's bedroom, now.

The boy had assembled his own dinner from the meager remains in the cupboard, and some for her, too, although she refused it.

The sobs started well after nightfall. From his bedroom he could hear them clearly. The wall between them wasn't made of shouji, as the rooms were intended to remain separate, but the lath and plaster separating them was thin and did little to muffle even the smallest noises.

Kakashi had often heard far more than he was supposed to.

He'd heard their lovemaking. His father's grunts and his mother's urgent cries of "more, more," had awakened him, then intrigued him, and he'd slid open their bedroom door to find her legs in the air, her fists crumpling the sheets below her as his father pounded against her. The look on her face was sublime-- even his young self recognized this-- and he'd wondered just what his father was doing to make his mother appear so blissful.

"Out!" his father had yelled, and that ended Kakashi's first and only experience in voyeurism. Sakumo had spoken to him about it the next day, telling him as much as was appropriate to share with a six-year old who has seen too much. It was for making babies, his dad had said, and then misinterpreting the look of incomprehension in his son's eyes explained that actually it was more than that. It was what a man and woman did when they loved each other. Sometimes babies resulted, sometimes not. And how did he feel about the possibility of being a brother? They'd talk about it more once he returned from his mission.

That talk had never happened, of course. Things changed dramatically once his father returned, their happy life together utterly changed by a well-meaning, though ill-fated decision.

He had again heard his parents at night, but very different noises than the last time. Noises of rejection, and anger and melancholy. More things unfit for a young boy's ears.

Kakashi wasn't supposed to be hearing tonight's noises either, despite his maturation. If Sakura didn't want to talk about things, he should wait.

But he couldn't, not with her keening like that. It set his teeth on edge, the way the sounds of a crying baby will make a parent frantic with worry.

"Sakura?"

The copy ninja entered her room, not bothering to wait for an invitation, and sat at the bottom of the bed. It still stunk of dog in here, despite the fact that the windows were open and had been since she'd arrived. This was the boys' room when they visited. Bisuke was his most frequent visitor, enmeshed as he was in a dysfunctional marriage. He came to vent fairly often, to Kakashi's dismay, but listening to his tale of marital woe was a small price to pay for the loyalty of a first-class ninken. The medium-size dog was by far the smelliest of the pack as he almost never bathed, nor did he use any of the well-padded baskets Kakashi had thoughtfully purchased for the room. He preferred the bed, where he could stretch out.

Hence the stench of rancid sebum rising up from the shuriken quilt Kakashi had owned since childhood. He changed the sheets regularly, but hadn't thought to launder the coverlet.

Sakura hadn't complained.

"I know you're not asleep. I heard you. We need to talk."

"So talk."

"What happened today?"

Something must have set her off. Ayame's words, perhaps? She'd been fine at the tattoo shop. Happy, even. But she hadn't spoken a word on the journey back to the house.

Sakura sighed and handed Kakashi the small plastic bottle that stood next to the bed. She reached for the bedside light, but he quickly interrupted.

"No need." She'd prefer the dark, he knew.

He read the label with the light gathering assistance of his sharingan. Ofloxacin. That rang a bell.

"It was bad enough that he...tore me up. But that he gave me this too..."

Ah. That's how he knew the name. Ofloxacin was standard treatment for gonorrhea. He'd made use of the drug once after a visit to a very low class "lingerie modeling" club on the border between Sand and Fire. It was the best he could do, given that he was short on cash at the time, but it had been an extremely poor decision given the quality of women available and the symptoms he endured afterward.

The indignity of it. Not to mention the judgmental stare of the medic assigned to his care when he returned to the village a bit worse for the wear.

"Thank God I'm not pregnant."

That answered one question he'd been afraid to ask. Kakashi could barely imagine the relief she must be feeling. To be pregnant with that man's child would have been an unthinkable, completely unacceptable aftereffect of the mission.

"I was worried because my period is late."

Ah. No comment was needed in reply, he hoped.

"But this could affect my fertility."

"Not when it's caught early." Like every shinobi, he'd read the pamphlets. He'd never thought about Sakura wanting children, but it did make sense. She was a nurturer by nature and would be a fine parent, when that day came.

"But it's been a month. The lab made a mistake, but Ino caught it today. I was... symptomatic. It was hard to miss at this stage. That's a lot of time to wait." She shrugged. "But it probably doesn't matter. My cervix might be incompetent, anyway. From the … trauma."

"Huh?" What the hell did that mean? _Incompetent_? How?

"He really hurt me. I knew it wouldn't feel good, not the first time, but this was..."

_Excruciating. _

_Unbelievably painful._

_Not at all what she'd signed up for._

She sat up in bed and turned so that her back rested against the wall. If he wanted to, he could reach out and grab her hand. He was stymied as to whether or not this was the right thing to do however, so he kept his hands to himself and his eyes on the darkened wall.

"He did a lot of damage. I was really lucky. I should thank you. If it hadn't been for you..."

"No. No thanks needed. I..."

_I should have done more._

Kakashi felt his fists clench at his side.

In the dim light of the starlit room, and with the assistance of his still-exposed sharingan, he saw her tentative smile. It was a struggle for her however, and almost a caricature of her usual expression. "It was worth it, though. I'm jounin now. They'll be promoting me at the hospital, too. They told me today."

So why was she crying again?

"Sakura?"

She turned her head away.

"If it was worth it," he asked gently, as carefully as he could, "why the tears?"

"I... don't know." Silvery droplets coursed down her face, a small flood of misery.

"I don't regret killing him. It was the right thing to do. But the mizuage..."

Her voice choked on the word. It was obvious she didn't want to talk about it. But Kakashi realized that she needed to. His mother had been right. Festering wounds needed airing and so did infected memories.

He had to ask her. "Twenty-twenty hindsight is easy, so don't take this the wrong way. But why didn't you use genjutsu?"

"To trick him, you mean?" She laughed. "You already know the answer to that."

He waited. He _didn't_ know.

"I wasn't trained. It wasn't a focus for Shishou, not when there was so much medical ninjutsu to learn. And Kurenai was on a mission until the day before I left, so there wasn't time to teach me much. Besides that..." She looked away again. "You can't construct a realistic genjutsu for something you've never experienced. I've never even _witnessed_ two people..."

"Ah." She was right, of course. That was one thing about Sakura: when she spoke with authority, it was deserved. She'd probably read through every genjutsu book in the Konoha library in preparation for the mission. But reading about a technique and actually doing it were two completely different things. And as she noted, experience, not imagination, was the critical element when constructing a realistic genjutsu. Kurenai could easily cast a genjutsu of a tree because she, like every other villager, saw them daily. But just as it was difficult to paint a scene one had never seen, it was difficult to imagine a feeling one had never felt. Conjuring up the sensations of orgasm would require one to have some idea of the sensation. It was hard to believe that Sakura had never masturbated, however. Kakashi was fairly certain (from what he'd heard at the bathhouse) that kunoichi classes covered that topic exhaustively as well. With movies, even. She should have been able to extrapolate from that. But maybe she'd skipped those classes.

"And when his toadies came in, all bets would have been off. There's no way I could have drawn them into the illusion. Working with one mind is hard enough. For me, anyway."

She was right, again. Working with three minds was a bit like juggling. It wasn't that hard if all saw the same illusion, but when two minds were witnessing a scene that the other was experiencing, it was hard for even a master to keep the illusion going. It would have taken years of training for Sakura to get to that level, even with her superior chakra control and diligence.

"I'm sorry," Kakashi said quietly.

"For what?" She turned to him, the look on her face one of utter surprise.

"I saw your talent in genjutsu and did nothing to nurture it."

Sakura shook her head then clasped her knees against her chest in a fetal position. Curiously, her voice showed no sign of resentment. "When would you have had the time? I realized I was third on your list, and rightly so. You had one student with a beast trapped inside of him and another on the verge of betraying the village. An overachieving, annoying girl didn't merit your tutelage." She touched his hand, the first time during her stay that she'd done so. "I have no illusions about what was. I understand your motives."

"That doesn't make it any less unfair. Or any less hurtful."

She straightened up and looked in his direction, although the darkness prevented her from seeing his face.

"You're a good person, sensei. And you did the right thing."

"I'd like to make it up to you."

She didn't respond.

"Will you let me?"

"How?"

"Train you. Let me build up your genjutsu skills. I'm not the best around, but there are some things I can show you."

"I really don't think that's what I need."

"No?"

He hadn't expected her to turn him down.

"Well, what do you need?"

She sighed, a deep sigh that seemed to expel the aura of isolation that had surrounded her that afternoon.

"A friend. You know?"

"I'm your friend."

"I need to talk. About what happened. I can't stop dreaming about it. I wake up two or three times a night--" The bed quaked slightly as she shuddered.

He'd hoped her sleep was dreamless. Physical exhaustion tended to do that to a person. But apparently her mind needed to make sense of her experience-- it couldn't rest until things were put right.

It had probably been a mistake to wait so long, Kakashi realized.

"So talk. Talk as long as you need to. I'll listen."

"I... I'm not sure where to begin. I feel a mishmash of things-- my thoughts are so disjointed that I want to scream."

"Tell me about your dreams. Are they the same every night?"

She turned her back to him again, grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed and clutching it against herself.

"Same person, different location. In my dreams, he's not dead. He's bleeding from a vital spot, sometimes he even has a shuriken lodged in his neck-- in his jugular-- but it doesn't stop him. I hit him exactly how I should have, but it doesn't work. He grabs me and he tries to strangle me. I run through every jutsu I can think of in my mind, but my hands don't move, and I can't pull my legs out from under me." Her voice rose in pitch and volume as she spoke, prompting Kakashi to reach out a hand to comfort her.

But he pulled it back immediately, deciding a man's touch might upset her.

"It's horrible. I can't _breathe_. I feel my windpipe collapsing. And then he--"

He would understand fully if she didn't want to go into details.

She surprised him.

"He enters me. And it hurts so much. It feels like he's slicing me open with a scalpel or like he's tearing me apart from the inside out. He laughs when he sees that I'm bleeding. He dips his fingers in my blood and he writes on me. Vile words, all over my body. And I know that it will never wash off. That I'll never be clean."

She was in a fully fetal position now, and she rocked rhythmically, her words oxygen-starved sobs.

"You're not dirty, Sakura."

Maybe she didn't hear him. She seemed lost in the memory she'd reconstructed, locked into the garishly detailed scenes her mind had embroidered. Kakashi had seen the brutality of her mizuage. But it was another thing to relieve it through her eyes. That man had completely torn her apart-- all of her.

"Sakura--"

"I want to hurt myself--"

He pulled her towards himself, grabbing the pillow from her arms and pressing her against his chest. This might be the wrong thing to do to a person in her condition, but it seemed like the only thing he _could_ do. He rocked her gently, smoothing her hair as he spoke softly, in the gentle tones one uses with a child just awakened from a nightmare.

"It's over, Sakura. He's dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

She shivered against her one-time sensei, despite the night's warm, humid air.

"Breathe. Deep, smooth breaths." Kakashi pet her like a favored daughter, running his hand in small comforting circles on her back. "Easy. It's over. You did your job. Beautifully."

He felt her racking sobs slowly subside, like the crashing breakers of a winter storm that ebb slowly into the small, regular waves of a rainy night.

"I did use genjutsu," she said in a whisper so soft he barely heard her.

"Hmm?"

"Genjutsu. Not the one you mentioned. One Kurenai-sensei showed me."

"Ah." Her voice was calm now, he noted, muted.

"It didn't work—not completely. It was a self-treatment. One that was supposed to stop me from feeling things. It was supposed to wrap me in a feeling of warmth. In a feeling of being loved. It was supposed to buffer me from the reality of what was happening, and make it bearable. And forgettable."

"Which jutsu?" Kakashi had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"The Encompassing Love. Kurenai-sensei told me to cast it just before he touched me, and to imagine the person I most loved. She said that I should imagine that person holding me, and touching me, and loving me. And I did..."

That fleeting expression he'd seen as she danced for the client-- this was the source of it. It was an expression of complete adoration, he remembered. She'd looked beautiful. Enraptured. Complete. It must have been for Sasuke, Sakura's first love. Kakashi remembered the way she looked at the boy, years ago, before things had gone bad. He'd seen that same look of near-worship then. Perhaps the fact that the traitor was dead had made the jutsu incomplete. That could have tinged it with feelings of loss and regret and lessened its effectiveness.

Sakura finally pulled away from Kakashi. With his sharingan eye he could see that her face was ravaged by the flood of released emotion .

"Sleepy?" He patted her head, mussing the hair he'd so carefully smoothed into place minutes before.

Kakashi rose and pulled the comforter from the bed, then slid the top sheet over her.

"Don't leave. Please."

"Shall I stay till you fall asleep?" She nodded.

"One minute." He ducked into his bedroom to retrieve his book, then sat on the bed next to her. "Mind if I read?"

She shook her head, but her eyes widened when he turned on the bedside lamp.

"You're not wearing your mask."

"Ah." The copy ninja did his best to forestall the redness creeping into his cheeks. He had completely forgotten that he removed the sweaty garment.

"You're more handsome than I thought."

"Really." Kakashi had no idea if that was a compliment or insult.

"Uh-huh." She closed her eyes. Apparently seeing her sensei's naked face was less of an achievement than she had once thought.

Sakura fell asleep quickly, but Kakashi remained with her. It wouldn't do for her to wake up again, and he noted she was sleeping very lightly. He stretched out next to her, atop the sheet and as far apart from her as the room's twin bed would allow. And when she moved closer to him and threw her arm across him he decided he didn't mind.

She needed a doll or teddy bear, but he would do-- something warm to remind her subconscious that life had its good moments, its safe, comforting times.

He'd start training her tomorrow. Genjutsu, despite her objections-- as mission leader he could order this-- and chakra storage.

She'd recover. He was sure of it. And when he was done with her, Sakura would be the kunoichi she was meant to be all along.


	4. Chapter 4

Mizuage-- A Naruto Fan Fiction

_Author's note: Thanks for your patience! I have a lot on my plate this summer, writing-wise, as well as a child crying out with the summer complaint, "I have nothing to do!" We don't have the funds to send him to day camps this year, as I am not working (so that I can write!) so we've got a bit of a catch-22 going on. I'm doing my best to update, but it's hard. _

Chapter 4

Kakashi was proud. Sakura had healed, and he was partly responsible. Since her tearful breakdown, she'd fully opened up to him, and like a carpenter repairing a house collapsed upon its own foundation, he'd reconstructed her psyche, salvaging its strongest structural elements and replacing the others. She laughed readily now, the sound of her joy always genuine. He saw a light in her eyes-- a brightly burning fire at times-- and he noticed that she attacked each day with vigor and optimism. She was a person glad to be alive, and he was thrilled to have played a role in bringing her to this healthy state. He'd done everything in his power to help her, and thankfully he'd had an effect. She was strong again, perhaps stronger than she'd ever been.

Sakura was in town today. She was aware that it was his birthday and had winked at him as she described the huge dinner she was planning to prepare. Somehow she'd learned his favorite dishes, and he imagined she was at the fishmonger's right now, haggling over saury, which, despite their autumnal abundance, were quite expensive due to their popularity. She'd have no problem finding eggplant, either, as it was still available in mid September. He hoped she wasn't planning on cake; he'd feel bad turning it down, but sweet things just didn't agree with him. And besides, now that he was in his thirties he needed to start watching what he ate. His metabolism wasn't quite as fast as it once was.

She also had other business in the village. Kakashi had spoken with the Hokage the day before, and Naruto had agreed, after slapping Kakashi's back quite heartily, that Sakura was ready to return to work. His mission was complete, and the admiration in his former student's bright blue eyes was almost payment enough.

So tonight would be their last night together, a celebration with two foci. Sakura was aware of how far she'd come in the past month, but he saw no harm in letting her know exactly how he saw things. It was obvious she hadn't received much praise over the course of her life. She mentioned her mother rarely, but from these comments Kakashi gathered that she was the sort with ridiculously high expectations, yet little praise. Of her father she didn't speak at all. The man had been present, Kakashi knew. He'd recognized the green-eyed man when he'd visited their store. But Haruno Susumu might as well have been an absent parent.

Tonight he'd make up for some of that. Kakashi had grown close to Sakura during this unusual mission. He regarded her almost as a little sister. Their bond was no longer one of teacher and student, or even teammates. He knew more about her than he'd ever learned about Naruto or Sasuke, even more than he knew about Tenzou. He understood what made her tick, as fully as if he'd taken her apart and examined the gears directing her movements. As a result he felt completely comfortable around her, so much so that he'd shared bits and pieces of his own self with her. He'd told her that she reminded him of Rin. Sakura had smiled at this, blushing slightly at the compliment, explaining that she'd heard stories about

the healer from Shizune and the Fifth. Kakashi hadn't realized his teammate's reputation had been that illustrious. He wondered what else he might have missed.

There was Sakura now, struggling with the doorknob. He hurried to help her, only to be pushed away with a fierce glare as she crushed paper shopping bags against herself.

"Don't look! This dinner is a surprise. Go back to whatever it is you were doing. As if I couldn't guess."

Kakashi glanced at the ever-present book in his hand, and retired to the couch.

"Don't go overboard, okay?"

"I'll do whatever I like. Understood?" She smiled at him from the kitchen doorway, saucepan in hand. "When do you want to eat?"

"Six would be good. How was the hospital?"

She shouted her response over the racket emanating from the kitchen.

"Um. Good. Things are a bit of a mess over there. They were happy to hear I'll be coming back tomorrow. People were a bit weird, of course. They didn't know how to treat me. But I'll set them straight."

He was right. She was healed. Better than healed. She was stronger than she'd been before. The old Sakura would have worried incessantly about her coworkers' response. This one sought to mold their response-- a completely different approach to the problem.

"Beer?" Sakura stood before him, heavy mug in her grasp.

"Sure. So am I king for the day?"

"Uh huh."

"If I'd known that, I would have kept you here."

"Too bad," she laughed before tripping back to the kitchen.

He'd never heard her sing before, but she was doing so now, although he couldn't make out the words. She had a pleasant voice, a mellow alto that felt a bit like velvet, soft and warm. There was no doubt that she was happy. Kakashi knew that it pleased her to do things for others. Considering that for the past months she'd been unable to do anything apart from focus on her own growth, he could see why something as simple as fixing a birthday dinner was eliciting such an ebullient response for her. She was a born nurturer.

For this reason Kakashi was sure Sakura would make an excellent mother some day, although he wondered which villager would be up to the task of partnering with her. She was formidably strong, and undoubtedly the smartest ninja in the village, apart from Shikamaru. She even outranked Kakashi in intelligence. He could say without bragging that this was no small achievement. It might be off-putting to any suitors, however, as so many men looked for women who were their lesser. Still, Sakura would find someone to appreciate her talents and native intelligence, as well as her occasional bad tempers. He'd need to keep a lookout for her.

Kakashi chuckled at the idea of playing matchmaker for the pink-haired kunoichi. She'd never allow it. If there was one thing he'd learned during her stay with him, it was that she was easily as proud as him.

A sharp rap at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Could you get that? My hands are full."

Kakashi pulled up his mask and slouched to the door, wondering who might be calling. Few made the journey up the face of the Hokage bluff-- that was one of the charms of this location. And, as they said in the real estate business, location _was_ everything.

"Happy birthday!"

Ayame's pleasant, apple-cheeked face was a complete surprise, as was the fact that she'd lugged her wooden ramen carrier up the many steps leading to the house.

"I didn't order dinner. Did you, Sakura?" Of course she hadn't. Kakashi immediately felt foolish for even asking the question.

"What?" Sakura joined him in the entry, dishcloth in her hands.

"Oh. Don't worry! This was _my_ idea. I knew it was your birthday, and how much you like our soup, so I thought I'd bring you some, on the house, of course. You don't mind, do you?"

The copy ninja didn't miss the look that passed between Ayame and his temporary roommate, and it caused him to wonder briefly if the pair had a history. He didn't have a chance to ask, however, as Sakura turned abruptly and returned to the kitchen, muttering something about Naruto under her breath.

Ayame moved quickly, scooting past Kakashi and into the living room where she placed the large wooden carrier on the kotatsu and quickly unloaded it. It contained not just the usual multiple bowls of ramen, but the accoutrements needed for a picnic lunch or simple dinner: a small table cloth, not much bigger than a furoshiki, a porcelain spoon, a single lidded bowl of soup, and the bud vase that often seemed to accompany his meals, occupied tonight by a seasonal white spider mum. There were lacquered chopsticks, too, something never seen at the ramen house, where the disposable bamboo variety were the usual implement. Kakashi lifted an eyebrow in bewilderment at this completely unnecessary offering.

"Only for one? Well, I suppose Sakura and I could share this as a first course."

"There's really not enough for two, but of course, I'm sure you know best." Ayame smiled sweetly, although her pleasant look morphed into more of a grimace as her nose twitched in recognition of a certain odor.

Kakashi smelled it, too. Sakura's carefully planned dinner of his all-time favorites--broiled saury and miso soup with eggplant-- was burning. The air quickly blackened with the acrid, volatile ash of incinerated proteins. Sakura's swears emanated from the kitchen, as did the hiss of red hot metal as a pan hit dish water.

"Well, it's a good thing I showed up, isn't it?" Ayame shut and latched her traveling case with a giggle, and lugged the somewhat lighter box to the door. A poorly disguised look of schadenfreude lit her face as she made her exit. "We miss you at the restaurant. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Dinner's ruined," Sakura said as soon as Ayame left. Her frustration was evident. "I'm sorry."

"Well, would you like to go out, or share what Ayame brought? It should be enough for the both of us. I'm really not that hungry." The truth was that he had no desire to go out tonight. Quite a few of his comrades were aware of his birthday, and he would likely encounter them in all of their back-slapping good spirits, should he and Sakura venture into the village. He'd rather avoid all that, and have a nice, low key evening, even if that meant going hungry.

Sakura sighed as she sat down at the low kotatsu. "This is good enough, I guess, although I don't see what's so great about Ichiraku Ramen. If it weren't for Naruto I think the place would be closed by now."

Kakashi was certain he'd heard Sakura sing the ramen place's praises on one or more occasions. Yes, something was definitely up between Ayame and her.

"Sorry. I'm just upset about ruining your birthday dinner. I don't know what it is with me and cooking. My mind wanders and suddenly everything is burnt to a crisp. Although tonight that wasn't exactly the case..." He didn't have opportunity to ask her to clarify, although her glower was probably explanation enough. She jumped up from the table immediately. "I'll get another bowl and spoon."

She was smiling again when she returned, although her expression looked a little more pasted on than he was used to seeing of late. "You'd think it would be impossible to burn soup, you know?"

"Well, where there's a will, there's a way. And you, Sakura, are nothing if not strong-willed."

She frowned as she passed him the sriracha sauce she'd thoughtfully brought back from the kitchen. He proceeded to douse his noodles in the chili-flavored concoction. She knew him too well.

"Hey. I meant that as a compliment."

"Oh. Well, thank you. I guess."

"Eat." He carefully poured half of the broth into Sakura's bowl, then distributed noodles and toppings between the two. She picked at her dinner for a while, stirring the curly pasta with her chopsticks and taking a bite or two of the sliced egg which had sunk heavily to the bottom of the bowl.

"You know, I'm not that hungry, especially not for this. I met Naruto at Ichiraku for lunch, and ordered this exact same dish."

"You don't like her very much, do you?"

"Who? Ayame?" Sakura laughed. "Actually, you've got that backwards. For whatever reason, she doesn't like _me_. Not lately, anyway. She's consistently rude to me whenever I eat there. Even Naruto noticed it." That was saying something. Despite his considerable growth-- both before taking on the role of Hokage and after-- Naruto could still be a bit dense about things that were obvious to everyone else, particularly interpersonal relationships.

Sakura pushed her bowl away, and sat back on her heels, evidently finished with her dinner. Kakashi poured the contents of her bowl into his own nearly empty one and slurped the now cool noodles. He'd forgotten to eat lunch, which was easy to do when he was all alone with no one to remind him. It was funny how he'd grown used to Sakura's presence. He had no qualms about eating in front of her anymore. Once she saw his face his practical side had pointed out there was no point in dining alone anymore. And to be truthful, he enjoyed the company. Eating alone was terribly boring after a while. And having company, even while doing something as mundane as watching TV, was a welcome change. She'd often end up cuddled against him as the late summer nights grew cooler, and he found the feeling was completely acceptable. The feel of her skin was comforting, her flesh yielding and warm. Should she fall asleep against him, he wouldn't wake her, preferring platonic body contact to the loneliness of his own bed.

"I think she has a thing for you."

"Hmm?"

"She didn't know it was your birthday until Naruto mentioned it today. And I don't think she usually makes unrequested deliveries, even for birthday boys. Her visits to the Hokage's mansion keep her busy enough, I've heard. Three times a day, minimum."

"Maybe Naruto asked her to stop by." Kakashi scratched the back of his head as he searched for a more likely explanation. "I'm with you. The ramen there is acceptable, but it's the quiet of the place that I like."

"I bought cake," Sakura stated abruptly as she cleared the table, not allowing him to bus his own bowl. "Good thing I didn't try to bake it, huh?"

"I'm sure it would have been fine. Although the truth is, I'm really not too fond of it."

"Pie?" He shook his head in response.

"Cookies?" Another negative.

"Pocky? Milky? Kompeito?" A line creased Sakura's forehead as she registered this new information. "Well, I hope you'll humor me, then, and at least have a bite of dessert. Seeing as I worked so hard to...uh...purchase it."

He smiled, both pleased and relieved that her previous good mood had returned. "As long as there are no candles."

"Feeling old?"

"Yes, actually."

"How old are you really?"

"Thirty-two."

"Ancient!" The teasing glint in her eyes was charming.

"You're not helping."

"Thirty-two is _not_ old."

"Says the expert on all things age related."

"Tsunade hadn't even perfected her genesis rebirth jutsu at age thirty-two. And didn't Jiraiya publish his first novel when he was thirty-five?"

"Thirty-six. I guess you've got a point."

"Wait right here." Sakura flipped the wall switch as she hurriedly left the room, casting the space into relative darkness.

"Just one candle, okay?" Her face was lit from below by a solitary flame as she returned to the room, its lemon-orange flame sputtering and fizzling like an errant firecracker. She looked almost elfen in its shadowed, golden glow. "I won't sing to you."

He half pouted in response, but she didn't seem to notice, as her words continued in an unbroken chain.

"I know that would be too much for someone as antisocial as you. Here. I know you won't say no to this."

She set a small cupcake in front of him, earning a frown from him.

Kakashi He hastily blew out the candle and pushed it back towards her. "Sorry." He really was. He hated to turn her down.

"Why?"

"I'm allergic to chocolate. It gives me migraines." Horrible, multi-day ones, the type that were preceded by weird auras and sparkling lights. The type remedied only by pitch dark and unabated silence. He felt bad. Had it been vanilla, he would have choked it down, despite his dislike of dessert.

"Oh." She deflated, her good cheer slipping away as quickly as the helium from a punctured balloon. "I'm two for two, tonight. Dinner was supposed to be your present."

"It doesn't matter, Sakura. And tonight isn't supposed to be all about me, anyway."

"It's not?"

"We have something else to talk about. You."

"Me?"

"Your growth in the past two months has been considerable. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sakura nodded. "I'm most proud of my genjutsu. Tricking you like I did last week was something I never thought I'd be able to do."

He hadn't thought so either. But she'd somehow found out about his most secret fear-- spiders-- and cast a genjutsu so effective that he'd had nightmares for the past week She'd played him perfectly. They were sparring, and she'd put him on the defense, causing him to retreat into a darker area of the woods. The illusion was seamless: he was still unable to determine where the real woods had ended and the genjutsu ones had begun. And the spider webs: she'd made them drapey but sticky, the type that stubbornly refuse to be removed from ones hair and skin. He still shuddered at the thought of them, and at the large, glistening-eyed beasts that had emerged next.

"You're well on your way to becoming a master. You've already surpassed me."

He noted the glow of pleasure on her cheeks.

"And that's not all, of course. Your defensive moves are superb." He didn't mention her self esteem. That had been boosted, as well, and not incrementally. She _knew_ she was good, now. It wasn't just talk anymore.

"Why are we talking about all this?"

"I said we needed to celebrate. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Sakura eyed him shrewdly. "You're saying that your 'mission' is over."

"In a matter of speaking, yes. You're ready to go back to work, you're sleeping better, and you're...happy, right?"

"Yes. I am." She looked at him carefully, as though sizing him up. "The thing is..."

"Hmm?"

"I'll miss you."

"I'm not going anywhere. We're friends, aren't we?"

She nodded, eyes closed, and she didn't resist as he pulled her into a hug. It was uncharacteristic of him to do so, but over the past couple of months he'd ended up doing many such things. He'd learned to go with the current, doing whatever was needed to bring Sakura around. And it had worked, so he couldn't complain. And right now, it seemed she needed to be embraced.

"I'm going to shower." She pulled away from Kakashi hastily, surprising him.

"So early?" It was barely seven o'clock. She usually stuck around for a while, finding plenty to chat about.

"Long day." Sakura grabbed a bag from the kitchen before heading to the small bathroom they shared.

She was in there for a while, long enough for Kakashi to clean up the dinner dishes and tackle the charcoal- and grease-encrusted pans that sat in the sink. Sakura would have a fit if she caught him, but she typically took her time showering. If he finished before she was done, she wouldn't be able to push him aside and insist on doing the task herself.

"Hey."

He hadn't realized she'd come into the room. Her hair looked unusually radiant under the harsh fluorescent light, a paler pink than usual, and he noticed she hadn't washed it, instead pulling it back into a loose, wispy chignon. He raised an eyebrow. She typically washed it daily, and they'd both settled into a nightly routine where he combed her freshly shampooed, still tangled hair. He would miss that habit, he realized. It was nice to touch another human, even what that touch was purely platonic.

Her robe was different too, he noticed, a perfect olive green sprinkled with amber and rust leaves. It was probably new: he detected the faint, sickly sweet aroma of formaldehyde sizing, although it was hard to confirm. She'd put on fragrance after bathing, which obscured the baseline scents he was used to.

"You shouldn't have done the dishes."

"There weren't many."

"That's not the point. I already feel bad about not giving you a gift."

"Don't. It's completely unnecessary. Besides, when have I ever gotten you anything?"

She shrugged in reply, then bit her lip as though working up the nerve to tell him something.

"I was wondering..."

Kakashi waited for her to continue, picking up a dishcloth to wipe the night's dishes. There was no point in making her anxious by staring at her-- if she had something to say she'd tell him eventually. And he might as well make himself useful while he was waiting.

"Come with me," she said finally. The pink-haired kunoichi led him into the living room and proceeded to close the wooden blinds that half hid the darkening sky.

Curious. He always left them open, and had wondered many times why his mother had gone to the trouble of dressing the windows. The living room looked out over the city, too high above it and far away for anyone to glean a view of its occupants.

She turned toward him as she removed the single barrette that bound her hair, and when she shook her head, smooth pink waves cascaded around her.

"I...I've been wanting to give you something else." With a smooth motion, she released the knot securing the tie of her robe. The garment parted like a heavy curtain, revealing her nakedness. After a simple shrug of her shoulders, the robe lay in a silken puddle on the floor, and she stood before him like a sacrificial offering, the room's sole lamp lighting her form so that it dominated the room, like an alabaster goddess on display in a darkened studio.

"Sakura..."

"I was hoping... that you could show me what it feels like to be...I can't think of anyone else that I trust enough to..." She paused. "But it would be a gift, too, wouldn't it?"

Kakashi stared at the beautiful kunoichi he'd known for years, unable to avert his gaze. She was simply gorgeous, her body even more toned since the last time he'd seen her unclothed, and much more relaxed than it had been on that eventful night. Her breasts were heavy and full, curving in gorgeous velvet teardrops against the smooth, taut skin of her torso. The arc of her hip was equally enticing, along with those legs that seemed unrealistically long. She was absolutely luscious, and he hated himself for recognizing this simple truth. The copy ninja forced his eyes closed, and willed the blood rushing toward a certain extremity to divert itself back onto its rightful course. It was wrong to think about her in that way. Their relationship had nothing to do with lust, or love, and everything to do with trust. His role was to be a friend to her, a colleague, a mentor. Or maybe a brother. Not a sex partner. Never that.

He'd never thought of her that way, and he was embarrassed that the sight of her naked body had incited his own to rebel. She was as gorgeous as the mythical Junko of Jiraiya's Icha, Icha series. Her curves might have been drawn by an artist even more talented than he. She was like a ripened fruit, just ready for plucking, promising juicy, lustful satiation to anyone lucky enough to take a bite. Her skin would feel like satin against his own, and he had no doubt that her lips would be firm yet supple under his

He was doing it again. He willed himself to stop, willed his body to bind up the excess testosterone flowing through his veins.

"I can't, Sakura." He whispered these words, hoping to lessen their impact, and for a moment he thought she hadn't heard. He opened both his native and Sharingan eyes to search her face, worried about her reaction. The look he saw in her eyes was familiar, a pleading expression he'd had the misfortune to witness on many occasions.

"Don't you--" she said finally.

"You're beautiful," he interrupted, certain of her unsaid words. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Her incomprehension turned quickly to extreme disappointment. She looked as though he had slapped her: her cheeks burned red as though they wore his hand's impression.

Kakashi stooped to pick up her robe, and handed it to her silently, averting his gaze from her perfect body and more importantly from eyes he was sure were staring at him accusingly.

"I don't..."

_--see you that way_, he wanted to say. But she'd misinterpret. She would take it as a rejection of _her_, not of the circumstances.

"It wouldn't be right," he said, finally. "We have a work relationship. And you're--"

"You just said this mission was over. That we're celebrating my success. You're not my sensei anymore. So what's the problem?" Her voice rose in pitch, and increasingly tightened around her words like a fist around a kunai.

"Sakura, please." Kakashi's eyes searched her face, and he hoped she might still be within reason. She seemed to slip so quickly into anger, and once that occurred, no amount of logic would sway her.

"That's the most ridiculous excuse I've ever heard! No one cares about things like that. _No one._ Why would you?" Pain flashed across the kunoichi's face as she continued. "I get it. It's not _that_. Not at all. You just don't want to tell me the truth." She pulled her robe around her tightly, cinching the sash with a sharp pull.

The show was over, at least, the curtains drawn on the evening's prime attraction.

But she'd mentioned "the truth". Which truth was she speaking of?

"You're a hypocrite. I've seen _your_ medical records." Sakura's eyes flashed, and Kakashi was relieved to recall that her chakra affinity was to the earth. Who knew what her fury might accidentally unleash otherwise-- a gale force wind, an electrical storm, tsunami or wildfire. An earthquake he could handle.

"Damn it. I thought you cared about me."

"I _do_ care about you. What are you _talking_ about?" The copy ninja racked his brain as he considered his long and checkered history within the walls of Konoha's hospital.

"You lied to me. You said I wasn't--" Sakura choked up, her anger getting the best of her. She turned away from him, and stormed off to the guest room. _Her_ room. The door slammed with certainty, and Kakashi knew with equal assurance that it would be a mistake to talk to her now.

It hit him, then. His medical records. She must have read about the aftermath of his encounters at some of the nation's lesser quality brothels, that he'd contracted diseases far worse than the simple case of gonorrhea she'd suffered.

_Shit_.

And his hypocrisy? She assumed he thought she was dirty.

What a way to end his birthday. Being propositioned by his former student-- a girl of only seventeen, despite her sensual, adult body and matching occupation-- was not something he'd seek out on any occasion, let alone one that was supposed to be the year's most special. The funny part was, he hadn't even considered this when he rejected her. It was easy to forget her age: she didn't look like a teenager. But she was below the age of consent, and still not old enough to drink. That, and her occupation placed her in a nebulous limbo between child- and adulthood.

But she was much more mature-- much more grown-up than he was at that age, despite the fact that he was in ANBU and much practiced at taking lives by then.

Kakashi sighed as he realized the implications of their conversation. She must hurt terribly. Injuring her in any way was something he'd never wanted to do. He'd been so careful to build her up over the past couple of months, but with a word he had crushed her. Worse, he didn't believe what she assumed he did. How could she be any dirtier than him? Disease was an occupational hazard, just like the ubiquitous cuts and bruises every shinobi suffered. There was no stigma attached-- not in their world. At least he'd thought not. She must see him as more vile than the oozing bacterial cultures she encountered in the laboratory, and certainly more nauseating.

The copy ninja adjourned to his bedroom and flopped down on the bed without bothering to undress. He felt the strength-draining sensation of defeat he'd experienced few times in his career. He wondered if he'd undone all that he'd accomplished. A single conversation might result in the edifice he'd painstakingly built tumbling down, as though its keystone had been recklessly pulled out.

But it might not be too late. Sakura was stronger than that-- too tough to let a small misunderstanding destroy her rebuilt psyche. She'd listen to him tomorrow, he decided. He'd corner her if necessary, and explain just how wrong it would be to embark on that kind of relationship. He'd make her understand. She hadn't been around as long as him, and couldn't see the nuances of their profession, or the need to keep things above board, if only for the civilians' sake. He'd make her see that she wasn't the cause of his rejection. It _wasn't_ her, and unlike the clichéd excuse commonly used during break-ups, it wasn't _him_, either. It was their _situation_. That was all. And while unfortunate, it was reality. She'd have to accept it. Life was unfair sometimes, terribly unfair. But there was nothing one could do about it. She would need to accept that and move on, just as he had accepted the ill-fated happenings that life had thrown at him.

Kakashi extended his chakra slowly, allowing its tendrils to reach into the room next door and ascertain that Sakura was okay. She appeared to be sleeping: the energy emanating from her was stable, its intensity ebbing and flowing like the steady, small ripples on an ocean becalmed. The copy ninja sighed in relief. She wasn't crying, or working herself up into some hyper-emotional state. That was good: she'd be easier to reason with in the morning.

He lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, suddenly aware of how tired he was. It had been a long two months for him as well, filled with the care and anxiety he always felt when trying to figure out how to meet one of his student's needs. He'd experienced it first with Sasuke. Kakashi had struggled to find the solution to the boy's constant anguish, bestowing him with the jutsu he'd shared with no one else, and taking him off to the mountains to train so that he could instill in the Uchiha some of the characteristic traits of the shinobi way-- traits that the boy seemed to be missing. Those efforts were in vain, but Kakashi learned from them. And when it was time to work one-on-one with Naruto, his teaching was both better planned and executed. That boy had learned in leaps and bounds, and as his teacher this had been most satisfying to Kakashi, despite the challenges inherent to teaching a student of Naruto's caliber. There was nothing like a successful lesson-- a lesson that left the student smiling at his or her own achievements-- to make a teacher happy.

With Sakura it was somewhat different. Unlike Sasuke and Naruto, she was a born student, eager to learn and a teacher pleaser. She would do anything to succeed, that is, to reach the goal that her teacher defined as success. But she was full of self-doubt, and this was the challenge Kakashi had wrestled with over the course of her retraining. As a student she had always been extrinsically motivated-- willing to work for the "A" grade, or the perfect score, or the rare words of praise from her Shisou. Even her medical studies carried this tinge of work for others' sake. She'd delved into her studies with an intensity shown by few others, to be sure, but this intensity had sprung from a need to be of use in rescuing Sasuke, not out of an innate love of the subject-- at least not initially. The difficulty Kakashi faced was in changing this orientation,: turning her into a person who worked hard for the sake of her own improvement.

He was sure he had succeeded, positive that Sakura's hard work had been done for her sake, not for his. But now he was no longer certain. Maybe she'd pushed herself only in an effort to please him. She'd offered herself as a gift to him-- an X-rated birthday gift that was not so different from the shiny red apple more commonly offered to people of his ilk. It was easy for a teacher to say yes to such a small gift: a piece of fruit was merely a statement of affection, or at its worst some minor brown-nosing.

But to give herself to him… What was she thinking?

He thought he might understand her reasoning. She'd haltingly put forth a series of half-statements that suggested she was looking for sex done the right way, the way it occurred between good friends and lovers, or even casual acquaintances. In other words, she was looking for sex performed differently than the way she'd experienced it.

Sakura's only exposure to the sex act was one of near-violence. She'd been stoic, doing even more than she had to-- the fact that she'd even contemplated taking on such an assignment was ample testimony to this—but it was clear that she had been devastated in the process. She hadn't experienced the gentle attentions of a man concerned with her well-being and pleasure, someone who recognized that even the best first time could be traumatic, but rather had been the victim of the attention of a man who would better be classified as beast. The memory of his student wincing in pain, then visibly forcing that pain aside made him cringe. She'd been hurt twice: once by the client himself, and another time by the village that had allowed it to happen.

Sakura had a right to a normal sex life, for both personal and professional reasons. Her sexual nature was the last aspect of her psyche that needed to heal before it could rightfully be said that she was well. She'd made huge improvements in the past month, but this was the one arena left untouched. Sex was a key part of adult life, and as a kunoichi, a key job requirement as well. Even if she chose never to use her body in that way again (which would be a wise choice, in Kakashi's opinion), she still needed to be comfortable flirting and enticing the opposite sex. This was a key stratagem used by shinobi-- male or female-- on recon missions, even in the midst of war.

But sexual experience wasn't something Kakashi could give her. He hoped she would understand. She needed someone to love her, to cherish her, to honor her and, for at least a while, to make her the center of his universe.

He most definitely was not the man for this job.

* * *

Kakashi awoke to a crashing inside his head and a fierce banging against the door. The first sensation was easy to explain: he'd slept restlessly, finally pulling his blanket over his head as intrusive rays of light began to creep through the windows' slatted bamboo shades. An oxygen deficit was the expected result, but he knew it would resolve itself in minutes. A few minutes of meditation would do the trick.

The banging against the door continued, and Kakashi wondered idly who had made the climb up the bluff so early in the morning. He staggered down the hall and across the living room, and leaning on the door for support as he opened it to a blindingly bright morning sky. That definitely was not the best thing for a headache. He squinted into the morning sunlight, barely making out the silhouettes of the two shinobi standing on his front porch.

"Good. You're already dressed."

Kakashi blinked as his open eye adjusted to the contrast between the darkened entry and the blazing light outside.

"Get your bag. The Hokage will meet you at the gate." Kotetsu spoke while Izumo, ever silent, peered over Kakashi's shoulder and into the darkened house.

"What is this about?" Kakashi straightened up to block the view into his living room. What went on in his house was none of the long time secretaries' business. Sakura might be walking around half-clothed. She didn't need any additional gossip circulated about her.

"He's been called away on an emergency. Trouble between the Tea and the Claw nations. Something about a kidnapping. He's been asked to mediate before things get ugly."

"And me?"

"No idea-- we weren't briefed. He'll give you the details. You should hurry-- he's probably getting antsy."

"Give me a couple of minutes."

"No time. The Hokage was adamant about that. Grab your stuff and let's go."

"Fine." Kakashi shut the door abruptly, leaving Kotetsu and his partner squinting in the intense morning light.

"Sakura?" There was no answer, but this wasn't surprising. She loved to sleep in late. He didn't bother to check for her chakra-- his head hurt too much for him to differentiate her signal from those of the boys at his door without considerable effort. He hurried back to his bedroom, now fully in mission mode. Slamming drawers open and shut he pulled together the necessary clothing and weapons for a generic multi-day mission, then headed to the kitchen for provisions, but not before checking in on Sakura.

No sounds emanated from her room, and when Kakashi focused beyond his headache to extend his chakra, he was surprised to realize that she was gone. He opened the door to confirm what this sixth sense told him, although doing so was completely unnecessary. His sensory abilities-- all of them-- were finely tuned and never wrong, even when he was suffering aches and pains.

Kakashi sighed as the exhaustion he'd felt the night before returned with inexorable force. The bed was stripped, he noticed, the sheets and quilt bundled upon the center of the bed. Other than that, there was no sign that Sakura had ever spent time in the room. The space was as desolate and dog-oriented as before she'd arrived, the wall lined with the padded baskets a few of the pack used, a pile of bones and sundry amusements in the corner. No stray barrettes or ribbons lay scattered across the dresser, as they had for weeks, and the small bottle of the fragrance she wore was also gone. There was no note, either, although that wasn't surprising. In her anger she wouldn't have wanted to leave one.

He should have realized she'd leave. Their mission was over, after all. He didn't blame her for wanting to be far away from someone who thought of her as trash. Except… he didn't.

The Sharingan user slouched toward the door, defeated. There'd be no time to find Sakura before he left the village, although he was pretty sure he knew where to find her. He'd ask Naruto to delay, of course, just enough to give him time to run to the hospital and back, but he knew the Hokage well enough to know that he'd be frothing at the bit, eager to get started. Right now three nations were depending on him.

Kakashi detoured to the kitchen, and pulled open the junk drawer to retrieve pad and paper. He wrote a brief note and sealed it, although that was probably not necessary. He didn't trust either of Naruto's retainers to deliver the note unread, so he purposefully left it vague.

"Gone on mission," was all it said. "You misunderstood me. I'll explain when I return."

Hopefully, he'd return soon. And hopefully, she'd listen.


	5. Chapter 5

Mizuage-- A Naruto Fan Fiction

_Author's note: __I__ apologize for how long it's taken me to update, but apart from a summer that provided me none of the free time __I__ longed for, a family member became seriously ill. Things are better now, however, so hopefully the updates will be more regular from now on. Thanks for your patience._

_Just a reminder: this story deals with adult themes. Please do not read if you are under age 18 or troubled by discussion of sexuality._

**Mizuage**

Chapter 5

"I hate runaway bride missions. Despise them, actually." Kakashi stood, book in hand, before his Hokage who at the moment was busy devouring the meter-long sandwich expressly prepared for him by the daimyou's chef.

"This wasn't what I expected, either," Naruto replied between mouthfuls. "Funny to think that something like an elopement could trigger a war." Or at least that's what Kakashi surmised he said. It was hard to tell, given that the leader of the continent's most powerful hidden village had his mouth crammed full of luncheon meat.

Apparently Naruto hadn't read his history. Many wars had been fought for just this reason, and on more flimsy pretenses.

Kakashi had expected a class A mission, given Naruto's urgent summoning, and was surprised and more than a little disappointed to discover the necessity for their presence in Tea. He hated searching for petulant, love-struck nobles, and that was what this mission appeared to be.

Ever impulse-driven, Naruto hadn't waited to hear details about the conflict between Tea and Claw. Instead he'd struck out Tea as soon as he heard the first rumors of war. As usual for the jinchuuriki, he had forged deep relationships with the leaders of both countries on previous missions. Apart from the tactical advantages of circumventing a war that might draw in neighboring countries, Naruto wanted to avert disagreement between two men he considered friends.

If anyone could manage this task, Kakashi was sure Naruto could. Despite his lack of formal learning, he was a natural, although unorthodox, diplomat. His tendency to speak his mind elicited trust: every person knew where he or she stood with Naruto, and he could be counted on to do what was just in a given situation. Diplomatic circles were bound tightly by tradition and rituals resembling elaborate, stylized dances more than actual conversations. But Naruto shook things up. He turned constricted protocols inside out, delving to the heart of the matter and typically satisfying both parties completely.

"So what's your plan?" Naruto wiped a smear of mustard from his mouth, grimacing at the stain it left on his sleeve.

"I don't think our target has eloped."

"No? Lord Koicha is sure she ran off with that Claw guy. What's-his -name."

"Tsumemaru. I don't think so. I read the letters from him to Lady Sencha. They're just friends. Her father is angry that his daughter ran off on the eve of her wedding and he needs someone to blame."

"And Claw is convenient?"

"You know both leaders, Hokage-sama. The two countries have never gotten along, and the personalities of Koicha and Tomoe are like oil and water."

"More like oil and flame."

Kakashi nodded. "I'd say Koicha's the flame. Look back at the other conflicts he's started. It's almost like he seeks them out."

"He seems so certain, though."

"Only because he wants to believe she's safe. But there's no proof that Claw's royal house is involved. Lord Tomoe claims that his son is away on a trade mission. He said he'd send proof of that. Why would he lie? The truth would come out eventually."

"I don't think he'd risk his nation's security on it." Naruto yawned. His body seemed to be yearning for its usual postprandial nap. "So, what's the plan?"

"I'll be heading out shortly. South, I think."

"Lord Koicha won't go for that. He'll insist you head toward Claw."

Kakashi sighed. He hated royals and their feelings of entitlement. He would head north, if ordered to do so by Lord Koicha, but clearly the man did not grasp the gravity of the situation. If Lady Sencha had run away– without a boyfriend– she was probably in danger. A fourteen year old girl who had never left the palace grounds could not survive on her own for long.

Kakashi's feet crunched the amber-gold leaves of disrobing oak trees, and his shoulders stirred up an earthy, familiar fragrance as they brushed against the evergreen camellias that filled the dense, reaching undergrowth. He had been searching for the lady for three days before Bisuke's arrival confirmed that he indeed wasted time traveling north: according to the scent the ninken picked up the girl had headed south. Kakashi had immediately reversed course, taking to the trees to move more quickly.

After two days of non-stop running, Kakashi and his team closed in on a camp deep in the woods of southwest Tea. The pack moved quickly and quietly, despite the dogs' excitement, and the copy ninja did not need to signal them to hold back as he did a quick recon of the area. A small group of thugs had set up in the clearing, and from the layout of the camp and positioning of guards, it was easy to tell that at least some of these men were ex-shinobi. They wore no hitae-ate, but many had the hyper-vigilant stance of men accustomed to living by stealth. Kakashi sat in a nearby tree as he memorized the faces of the men. There was no doubt that Lacy Sencha was present – like the dogs, Kakashi had memorized her scent. Likely she was in the cave to the north side of the camp because that area was most heavily populated with men.

Several things were immediately clear. First, he was right in believing that Lady Sencha had not eloped. If she had, her lover would be present. No sane fiancé, surreptitious or otherwise, would have allowed her to set off from the palace alone. What's more, if it was an elopement in progress, Lady Sencha would not be hidden away in a cave, its entrance secured by kunai-wielding guards.

Clearly the daimyou's daughter had been kidnapped. But this did not make sense. She had been gone over a week, but no ransom note or other message from her captors had been delivered to the palace. The daimyou was exceedingly wealthy. Surely these men knew they could secure at least a million ryo for her safe return. The daimyou likely would have paid the Leaf Village that much, had Naruto not volunteered their services.

The dogs would not be useful in the recovery effort. Kakashi silently thanked them and bade them farewell before dropping lightly to the ground and entering the camp. It was dinner time, and darkness was quickly falling. This was to his advantage, as the Sharingan's light-gathering abilities afforded Kakashi night vision on par with an owl. Although the men were eating in shifts, the attention of those on duty was diverted by the smell of fish roasting over a campfire. It was the perfect time to attack, Kakashi knew. He picked up a small rock and tossed it so that it landed noisily on the far side of the camp, then targeted the leader of the group as he stood to bark orders to his comrades. Kakashi's prediction of the man's affinity was correct: lightning easily bested earth, and the man was felled before he fully wove a complicated jutsu.

Kakashi's raikiri eliminated three others in quick succession, and, with the camp lit as brightly as a midday field, the copy ninja turned his attention to the men guarding the cave. They were earth users, too: one attempted to seal the cave entrance while another rose stone pikes from the ground in a haphazard attempt to build an impromptu fortress.

Despite his lack of affinity for the element, Kakashi had stretched himself over the years, acquiring a number of earth-based jutsu which he put to use. He pulverized enough of the granite bars to gain access to his prey and quickly dispatched the last two men, noting the fear that danced frenetically in their eyes. They recognized him and instantly foresaw that their death would be a painful one.

Kakashi pulled the dead men aside, searching each body for clues that might explain their reason for taking the princess. His hunch was correct: they were rock ninja. He recognized one from Konoha's bingo book. But the man had long been rogue, wanted not only by the other great nations, but by Rock itself. Why would such a man be involved in a simple kidnapping? Kakashi didn't take time to ponder. Now that the enemies were out of the way, Lady Sencha was the next order of business.

Kakashi didn't have Sakura's latent strength or her chakra control to help him remove the massive boulder blocking the mouth of the cave. He did, however, have several long granite pikes, courtesy of Lady Sencha's captors, which would serve nicely as crowbars. Focusing his chakra, he wedged a makeshift lever into the small gap between cave wall and boulder and pushed.

He knew exactly what to expect upon entering the space: a whimpering, shell-shocked girl. If there was one thing he hated more than runaway brides, it was damsels in distress. After Sakura's ordeal, how could he not?

She would be wounded, he knew. Perhaps not physically, but certainly emotionally. Her abductors had likely raped her too, or abused her in other ways. Kakashi had no desire to relive – even partially – the events of previous months. He steeled himself as he walked into the cave.

"You're safe. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I'm here to help." He spoke slowly and soothingly, using short sentences and words practiced frequently over the years. More importantly, he kept his distance.

Yet there was no responding whimper, only silence. Perhaps she was unconscious or drugged.

Kakashi focused enough chakra into his hand to light the room with a small ball of electricity turned plasma and scanned the room.

There she was. But her eyes weren't glazed over. Nor was she crying. The only child of the daimyou of the Tea country, a tiny head in a bundle of ndigo-dyed rags looked at him calmly, though distrustfully.

"Who are you? Identify yourself."

He couldn't be mistaken about _her_ identity. From the girl's imperious tone, it was clear she was accustomed to ordering people around. She matched the general description he'd been given, too. She had the same dark gold hair as her father, and bright green eyes. But other than that, she was not what he expected.

"I'm Hatake Kakashi. Shinobi of the Leaf Village. Your father –"

"My father –" she gulped, an unidentified emotion fleetingly darkening her face. "Is he angry?

Did you... _kill_ them?"

Kakashi nodded, watching intently as the girl rose to her feet and did her best to wrap her dirty yukata, a garment completely inappropriate for the recent cool weather, tightly around her body. She kept her distance from him. That was to be expected. Who knew what these men had done to her?

Her wrists were bound, he noted, but not tightly enough to leave marks. Rather, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to pad the knotted ropes.

"A ninja," she said dully. "You're really a ninja?"

"Let's get you out of this cave. There may be others, and this place is suspect strategically."

She spoke slowly. "There were ten. I think. But some split off."

Kakashi took the girl's hand gingerly and carefully led her out of the cave and to the fire ring, where he gestured for her to be seated.

"Are you okay?"

"They didn't touch me."

That was a relief to hear, although Kakashi knew that sometimes victims lied. The shame of admitting to assault could override the need for help.

"The leader wouldn't let them. He said I would be worth more untouched. Bruises affect a servant's price, I guess."

Kakashi had no immediate response, besides overwhelming feelings of anger, disgust and incompetence. After everything that had happened to Sakura, he should know how to handle such situations. But he didn't. She was babbling. What was this about servants?

"Do you like dogs?"

"What?" She seemed confused. "Oh. Yes. I have a shar-pei."

Kakashi moved some distance away, but kept his eye trained on her. With his hands behind his back – it might not be wise to expose her to the sight of blood – he expertly slit one finger deeply enough to draw blood. A moment later, Bisuke stood before him.

Lady Sencha smiled in surprise as the nin hound bounded up to her.

"He's friendly, but he's also trained to protect you." Kakashi gestured to the pile of bodies just beyond the cave. Bisuke will keep an eye out while I take care of a couple of things. Hopefully you'll feel safe around him."

Kakashi moved to the pile of corpses he'd gathered minutes earlier, dispatching the bodies without ceremony. Immolation was the most effective method, given the circumstances. Anyone happening upon the scene, even minutes from now would have no indication that the remaining lumps of anthracite coal had once been human.

"I know of a safe house that's not far." He dared not call it a cave – the girl might not go willingly into another place like the site of her captivity. Kakashi returned to the young girl's side and offered a hand up. She refused, preferring to rise to her own feet unassisted. The action was a good indication, he decided, a sign of spirit. A sign that she had not been broken.

Kakashi doused the camp fire with a tiny water dragon, stamped on it to be sure it was out, and then spoke quietly to the girl.

"Are you up for journeying?"

The young Lady Sencha nodded, and as she came closer to the lamp he'd made of his glowing fist, he considered her age. She was fourteen, he recalled, although her face hardly fit that of a teenage girl. It was soft, her bone structure was still undefined, and her nose was turned up slightly so that even unsmiling she had an impish look. Her short, golden curls added to the child-like effect. She couldn't be called cherubic, however: her face was much too gaunt for that. Below the neck she looked even younger. The yukata she wore obviously did not belong to her. Although they were a one-size-fits-all garment, this one draped on the ground, despite the fact that it had been hiked up over its tattered obi. She belonged in a child's garment, one a nine- or ten-year-old might wear. She could easily be mistaken for a girl of that age, he realized. Put a lollipop in her hand and she might pass for age eight.

She was wearing geta, the typical wooden shoes worn with thin cotton kimono, made for toddling through a spa or summer festival, not hiking through the woods. At a glance he could tell they were custom made, probably for the palace staff. Although they were plain apart from an identifying seal burned into the wooden sole, they were quite obviously expensive. It wouldn't do for the daimyou's servants to be clad shoddily, Kakashi guessed. Ruining an outfit by mixing the quality of garment and accessories was common when an amateur attempted to disguise himself, particularly a wealthy amateur. The rich typically had no concept of the relative price of things. Lady Sencha probably thought this type of shoe was what all commoners wore. But the finely crafted geta were likely one of the first things her kidnappers had noticed, assuming their shinobi skills had not atrophied.

This was why they had left her alone, he realized. Surely they had not been aware that she was the daimyou's daughter – she would have been ransomed immediately if this were the case – but they'd realized she was a person of considerable income and culture and therefore would be desirable to a certain clientèle. She'd be like wagyu steak to a gourmand – an expensive delicacy made even more desirable by its rarefied upbringing.

Kakashi felt his stomach turn in disgust. The sooner they got away from this camp and its aura of depravity the better.

"Bisuke, stay with us. Lady Sencha, we won't have time for conversation. I'd like to get you to safety as quickly as possible."

Kakashi knew this area well. It had been a front in the ninja wars years before, and Konoha had taken full advantage of the region's karst topography. The hills were littered with sinkholes and caves, which served admirably as weapons caches and wet-weather camps. Better still, they'd secured some of these with genjutsu. If he were lucky, the seals would still be intact, preventing locals and other ninja from locating the caves. But luck really had nothing to do with it. Kurenai had cast the genjutsu. Hence, they were unassailable. Even assisted by a map or tracking animals a non-Konoha nin would wander around, unable to pinpoint their target. This was true no matter how many times they might have seen the caves previously.

For one in the know, however, defeating the genjutsu was quite easy. The right combination of words and seals would allow one to see right through the fiction, while preserving it for others.

Kakashi's thoughts were interrupted by clumsy noises, the sounds of the girl behind him tripping over the roots and branches that lined their path. She wasn't used to walking in the woods – that much was obvious. He wondered just how far she'd journeyed alone before being kidnapped. The entire forest must have heard her. Surely she had been easy pickings for the rag-tag band of former ninja that captured her.

Kakashi stopped short, causing the daimyou's daughter to careen into him. He held her apart from him gingerly, hoping her elbows were an appropriate place to grasp. She pulled her arms away abruptly and glared at him as she righted herself.

"You'll need to leave those behind." Kakashi pointed to the geta. Their platform heels were ridiculous. She looked like a child playing dress up in her mother's formal wear.

"Why?" She frowned at him.

"You obviously can't walk in them. Why on earth would you choose shoes like that to meet your lover?"

"Lover? What are you talking about, ninja?"

"As I told you earlier, my name is Hatake Kakashi. Please address me accordingly."

"_Hatake_, what the _hell_ are you talking about? Is that better?" A vein was throbbing in her forehead, providing a hint of what the lady might be like under different, more accommodating circumstances. She was a bit like her father, he realized. And a bit like Sakura.

And apparently, Lady Sencha had recovered some.

"Tsumemaru of Claw. Your father said you eloped with him."

The girl huffed. "It's just like Daddy to assume that I would do something so silly. He jumps to conclusions. And his temper –"

Kakashi scratched his head. "But you _did_ run away."

She nodded. "I didn't want to marry _that man_ my father chose."

"Ah." Certainly she knew that marriages in the ruling class were rarely a result of love. What was the use of running from such a tradition?

"Well, let's get going. It will be dark soon."

Kakashi found the cave easily, and was pleased to see that it hadn't been used since the last time he'd been in the area. It was too high off the ground to be of interest to any animals that weren't climbers, and because there were no big cats in the area it was free of feline odors as well. There was a shelf just outside the entrance that served as a perfect lookout, and the interior of the cave was quite dry and even large enough for a small person to stand up in. It would serve nicely as a resting place. They would head back to Tea's capital the next morning.

Not surprisingly, Lady Sencha had a small tantrum, but upon learning the alternative, quickly relented. She was better behaved after that, not complaining when she was carried up to the cave mouth on the copy ninja's back, slung over his broad shoulders like a sack of sweet potatoes.

After a second trip to retrieve his pack, the copy ninja started a fire at the cave's mouth, using kindling and logs stacked years prior. Once the fire took, he pulled a small metal saucepan from his pack, as well as a canteen of water and the fixings for dinner. The meal would be limited to cup ramen, the usual fare for a night on the road, but with the addition of some soy sauce it wouldn't be half bad. Hunger was the best condiment, after all.

Lady Sencha wrinkled her nose as Kakashi traipsed to the back of the cavern, dinner in hand and back hunched.

"I don't eat from paper cups. What is that supposed to be, anyway?"

"If you don't eat you'll go hungry. And if you're hungry, you may faint tomorrow on the hike back. You wouldn't want me to have to carry you, would you?"

She reluctantly took the cup he offered, peering at its contents with dismay.

"But it's just noodles, ninja. Er, Hatake. Where's the fish or ham or eggs? Is this dried-out stuff supposed to be _naruto_?"

Kakashi pointed toward the woods just outside the cave. "The fish is in that stream down there. If you're nice, you might find some on your breakfast plate. As for eggs... birds aren't clutching at this time of year. Reptiles, either."

He smiled at the look of repulsion garnered by his last statement, then returned to the mouth of the cave to keep watch as he ate.

Lady Sencha, daughter of the seventh daimyou of Tea, was exactly what he had expected, if not in looks, then in attitude. She had the entitled manner he hated to see in the young, but often encountered among royalty. Some of Kakashi's peers loved missions that were little more than babysitting the innately blessed. Typically this type of mission was tediously routine. They were easy jobs as few outlaws were foolish enough to attack a well-armed caravan. Like turtles, princesses and lords tended to carry their households with them, and like these lumbering reptiles, their defenses were impenetrable. Of course their security was due to top notch protection from ninja paid handsomely for the privilege of keeping company with their high-born clients.

But these missions made up for the unmitigated boredom of minimal battle. The typically hard-to-stomach attitude of the client rivaled full-on battle, at least to Kakashi. After his very first such mission Kakashi decided he would rather risk a limb than listen to the self indulgent, navel-gazing drivel of the typical royal. Besides, should he be trapped with such a self-centered twit, Kakashi was certain he would attempt to bash his own head against the ground until he was knocked senseless, unable to see or hear the braying condescension of those born randomly to a lifestyle they thought a karmic reward.

With this in mind, the copy ninja decided not to debrief the little princess just yet. There would be plenty of time in the morning, or even on the way back, assuming his pack found nothing of danger between their current location and Tea. Or maybe he could talk Bisuke into the job. The dog liked to talk – he was the chattiest of all of them, and a good listener, too.

Kakashi was surprised, therefore, when the young Lady Sencha made her way to the entrance of the cave. He sensed her approaching, of course, but he hadn't _expected_ it. She would be accustomed to people coming to her, as befit a person of her station. Add to that the fact that she'd been held hostage, and he couldn't blame her if she wanted to keep to herself.

"It wasn't _him, _you know. He's nice enough, I guess." Her voice was clear and steady, if a little piqued. Maybe, she was like Sakura, the type that over thought things. Kakashi wondered if she'd been sitting in the corner stewing over their last conversation.

"Your fiancé?" The copy nin cast a sidelong glance at his client. She seemed unperturbed at discussing her foiled marriage of convenience.

"I know that I won't be allowed to marry for love. That's not possible for someone like me. But I just don't want to marry _yet_. I've used every trick I could think of to delay it this long. I was supposed to be married as soon as I came of age." She responded to Kakashi's quizzical look by drawing closer to the fire that sent wild shadows skittering across the limestone walls of the cave. Her voice was lower – almost a whisper – as she continued.

"It's kind of complicated. I've read a lot about other countries' customs and I know that they don't have similar laws. Not anymore. In Tea, the age of consent is fifteen for both boys and girls. Any citizen can get married then, with or without their parents' knowledge. But for the peerage, it's different. If a parent arranges it, a girl as young as twelve can be married – even to a much older man. _Usually_ to an older man. My dad's been hoping to marry me off for ages. It would strengthen his alliances within the country. Consolidate his power. Lord Fujimoto is fifty-three and he's related to half the families in Tea. He's been asking my father for me for years. Since I was eight. I've only met him once though, and even then it was through a screen. I saw what he looked like, though. I ran to the window when he was leaving. He's shorter than me, and bald. And kind of fat."

"And this bothers you." It should, Kakashi thought. It certainly perturbed him. A person of fifteen, whether male or female, was unable to responsibly make such a life altering decision, and a child of twelve – he imagined his former students at that age. They were _kids_ then, screwing up regularly, but definitely not _screwing_.

"The idea of a middle-aged man marrying someone like me? No. That's how it's always been. Marrying for love is an idea for peasants to embrace. _We_ have to keep the family business going, so it's important to make a good match." She shrugged. "But until recently, it wasn't a problem because I hadn't come of age."

Kakashi turned to gaze at her, and surprise was evident on the small portion of his face visible through the ever-present mask.

"But you said–"

"A girl can only marry that young if..." Lady Sencha scowled in a transparent effort to hide the color creeping into her cheeks. "They call it 'the first blood.' The field workers have some kind of celebration each time it happens in a peasant family. In my case, it was a little more private. It was my servant's job to check my bed for it daily, once I turned eleven or so."

"Ah." Kakashi had never heard of such a tradition. It seemed terribly intrusive. Surely a nation could wait to wed its daughters until they reached a reasonable age and allow each the privacy of her bodily functions. But diplomacy was built on shaky stuff, on traditions that were less than logical and often hard to consider objectively. It was not his place to offer criticism, or even commentary.

"My nurse knew how I felt– she knew I didn't want to marry so young. She told me that if I didn't eat, it would take longer to happen."

That explained the girl's unusually small frame. She was probably skin and bones under that dirty yukata. The Sharingan user noticed she was eating with relish now and wondered how she'd managed to keep her weight down. Bulimia, probably. Someone would have noticed if she'd stopped eating.

"She checked my sheets every morning ahead of the chamber maid, just in case."

"But eventually--" Kakashi tried. She had only forestalled the inevitable. Even a girl who starved herself would eventually hit puberty.

"My father noticed I was getting skinny. He forced me to eat. We never ate together before that – he always had official functions to attend, and of course I couldn't be seen at those. But he gave them up so that he could keep an eye on me. He decided he couldn't trust the servants."

And with good reason, apparently. Kakashi prompted his young client to continue.

"And it finally happened?"

She nodded.

"Nurse was able to hide it from him the first time. She slept on the floor next to my bed for a while. But the next time she wasn't fast enough. My wedding was arranged for the following month. I was lucky that Nurse was still around to help me. She was my mother's nanny, too, so Daddy had a soft spot for her.

"That wasn't too smart of him, of course. She planned everything for my escape. She gave me her shoes and also the yukata. She found it at a flea market. It's disgusting, isn't it?" Lady Sencha waved a tattered sleeve for emphasis. "Who would wear second-hand clothes, anyway?" The girl giggled in derision.

"Won't your nurse be the first person he suspects?"

Lady Sencha nodded. "But she left, too." The glance she gave Kakashi was wary. "And I'm not going to tell you where."

"My mission involves only you, not her."

Sencha's grass-green eyes narrowed as she weighed the sincerity of this statement.

"The thing that pisses me off is when I _do_ get married everything will be handed over to my husband. Whoever marries me will be the next daimyou. Even if the man is a complete idiot."

The teen looked a lot older when she glowered. "But it should be _me_. _I_ should be the next daimyou of Tea. Why would I voluntarily hand that over?"

"Only males can become daimyou in Tea?"

She nodded.

After living in a village well-governed by a kunoichi, the idea of limiting ones leaders to a single sex seemed backwards. The best should lead, regardless of sex. Of course, even in Fire there had never been a woman leader before Lady Tsunade. But as a whole the village embraced change, accepting the challenge of doing whatever was necessary to preserve their way of life. Sadly, this type of thinking was often seen as revolutionary—even dangerous— to the outside world. It was well known that Fire's daimyou had expressed concern over the Godaime's appointment, only reluctantly accepting her once it was made quite clear to him that there were no other suitable candidates.

"And your mother couldn't produce a male heir?"

The young Lady Sencha lifted an eyebrow in scorn. "If you'd studied biology you'd know that it's the father that determines the sex of the child, not the mother. But it wasn't a question of that. My mother died when I was born, and my father was devastated. Nurse told me that. He never married again, even though tradition dictated that he do so. He was supposed to produce an heir. But he loved my mother too much to do that. I don't have any illegitimate brothers or sisters, either. If I did, the boys would be in line for the title. My father was completely faithful to my mother."

She paused to run a hand through the short curls that covered her head.

"He never intended to do this, but he raised me as his son. I didn't appear with him in public, because that's not allowed for the underage female relatives of the daimyou, but at home, between official audiences, he kept me by his side. He didn't show me how things worked or even teach me, but I was always there, and over the years I couldn't help learning everything there is to know about our country and how to run it. I learned how to read, how to figure, about different countries and their customs, about the art of war. Everything. And of course, I read a lot, too."

For a moment, she'd sounded just like Sakura— a girl with an insatiable appetite for knowledge.

"Eventually, he began to rely on me. Behind the scenes he asked my opinion on matters of state. I helped him calm down and see things rationally, so that his temper didn't sweep him away. And usually he followed my advice."

So essentially, the nation of Tea was being run by an underweight fourteen-year-old girl.

"And you don't want to give that up." Kakashi couldn't blame her. Were he in her shoes, he'd feel the same way.

"I don't want to _give it away_. Why should I?" Lady Sencha sighed, her exhalation reeking of both sadness and anger. "But my father wouldn't listen to me. After he found out that I had— about the 'first blood,' he said I needed to take my rightful place. But I don't want that place. I don't want to be second. So I decided to leave and make my own place, my own niche in the world."

"And where were you headed?" The copy ninja had to smile. Despite Lady Sencha's haughty exterior, she had the hopeful ideals of almost any teenager. She protected those she cared about, and wanted to put her own mark on the world. She had an inner self that was uncorrupted by her overly pampered upbringing.

"To the southern port."

God. She wasn't planning to prostitute herself, was she? In a town like that there were plenty of men with lolicon fetishes who would snap her right up. She'd never see daylight.

"I thought I'd get a job as a sailor. I heard the big freighters are always looking for crew."

Kakashi laughed: he couldn't help it. The thought of a girl as slight as her passing herself off as a strapping teenage male was ludicrous. Her naiveté was stunning.

"Pardon my saying so, but you do know that job is exclusive to males, don't you?"

"So?" Given their topic of conversation, her look of outrage was quite fitting.

"Your face might pass muster, but..." the copy ninja intentionally looked away as he spoke, as it seemed likely that she might slap him hard across his face once she realized what he was speaking of. No fourteen year old girl wanted her figure criticized, whether she was fat, underweight, or perfectly shaped. He remembered Sakura's fists flying into action as Sai made another unintentionally rude remark comparing her body to that of her best friend.

"Lots of boys my age are skinny!"

Kakashi continued to chuckle.

"How much can you lift? Here, give me your hand." The copy ninja held the small appendage close to the fire and examined it carefully. "Nope. Not a single callus. You've never even gardened, have you?"

The heiress of Tea scowled in response.

"I wasn't allowed to do things like that. There's a long list of things I've never done-- climbed a tree, thrown a ball, ridden a bike. You can't do that in a seven layer kimono! But I'm smart. I learn quickly." She was almost whining. Kakashi guessed this was the well-practiced tone she used to wheedle her father.

"Physical strength has nothing to do with smarts or ability to learn. You really think you could haul ropes and pull half-ton nets all day?"

"You might be surprised."

Kakashi chuckled again. "I might. Or you might get thrown overboard with the rest of the jetsam."

"But you won't even let me try, will you? You're taking me home and I'd be silly to even try to run away."

"Right on all three counts."

"It's not fair."

"Right again. You're on a roll, Lady Sencha."

"Sencha." She looked away as she spoke, suddenly shy.

"Come again?"

"Call me Sencha."

"Well then, Sencha-sama, are you ready to get some sleep?"

"I said, _Sencha_." The imperious tone had returned to the girl's voice. "I don't let just _anyone_ call me that, you know."

"And you shouldn't let me, either."

"Because I'm part of your 'mission'?"

Kakashi nodded warily. One of the hazards of rescuing a damsel in distress was the extreme likelihood that she'd romanticize her rescuer. Lady Sencha, no, _Sencha_ seemed the type. The copy ninja braced himself for an onslaught of coy giggles and batted eyelashes.

"I like you, though. You're honest, and I can see that you don't take shit from anyone. That's refreshing for a person like me. No one ever says, 'No' to me except for my dad."

"So I'm like your father?" Maybe it was the silver hair. It looked grey at this time of evening.

"No." She giggled, per his expectations. "Not at all. He's a hot-head. You're..."

"Well." He stood to signal the end of the conversation, as he did not like where it was headed. "You can have my bedroll."

"What about you?"

Kakashi did not answer, instead busying himself with extinguishing the campfire and settling himself against the outer wall of the cave. He sat here purposefully. He was within earshot but out of the royal's line of sight. More importantly, his seat on the ledge afforded him a clear lookout of the woodland below and any unlikely, genjutsu-thwarting attackers.

"You don't sleep on a mission, do you? Why do you even carry a blanket?" Sencha's voice, almost strident, easily carried across the night air.

"I sleep before I meet my client, and after he or she is delivered safely." In this case, his words weren't exactly true. Due to her father's insistence that she'd traveled north, the copy ninja had been forced to forsake rest for the past two days. He could go for three nights without a problem, but even ninja were limited by some aspects of human physiology. The body needed sleep. It tended to misfire otherwise. He would rest tonight, eyes open and alert, but much of his brain on auto— in a state akin to meditation. It would alleviate the exhaustion he'd feel in the morning, but not by much.

Kakashi poked the ashes of the fire with a stick as he willed the girl to fall asleep. Either that, or suddenly be stricken mute. He was tired of the chitchat and endless questions.

"Don't you get tired?"

"I've done this for almost my entire life. It's mind over matter, nothing more."

She was silent for a while, and Kakashi was almost certain she'd drifted off when she abruptly interrupted his thoughts.

"You know kunoichi, don't you?"

The master of a thousand jutsu grunted, unwilling to start up another conversation.

"Are there lots of them?"

"Some."

"They're lucky. They get to live their lives their own way. No stupid rules to confine them, no traditions to blindly follow. They don't even have to get married, do they? To have a family?"

"No. Some do, some don't."

His mother married. His sensei's lover did not. And some didn't get the opportunity. He thought of Kurenai and frowned.

"I wish I was a kunoichi. They're so... _lucky_."

Her conclusion was completely unfounded, but Kakashi had no desire to debate the topic with this incarnation of good fortune and riches. Happily, he didn't have to. The wheedling tone of her next question told him the topic had changed.

"You think it's wrong, don't you?"

"What's that?"

"The idea of marrying so young."

"What _I_ think is irrelevant."

"But you _do_ think—"

He interrupted forcefully. "I am sworn to my village to execute faithfully every task I am assigned. The only feeling that matters is loyalty to my village."

"You could look away. You could say I disappeared while you slept."

"Shinobi don't sleep on duty. And you are sadly underestimating me if you think I could lose track of a client." He softened his voice before continuing. "You'd better sleep. We have a long walk tomorrow."

"I don't want to go." The slight tremor in Sencha's voice was real.

"I know."

She was quiet then, but her breath was uneven, as though she was trying not to cry.

"It's late. Go to sleep, now." He said this as gently as he could, although he doubted it helped.

Sencha sighed in resignation, but when she spoke her voice had its now customary, imperious tone. "Where's the dog? I was hoping he would sleep next to me."

"Bisuke?" How telling that she hadn't remembered his name or noticed the hound's disappearance. "He went home to his family. Hours ago."

"You're not his owner?"

"I'm his pack leader. He has his own wife and kids."

Kakashi heard the rustle of the bedroll as she sat up suddenly.

"Seriously?"

"He's ninken. They're different. Go to sleep." He needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.

"Fine. I'll sleep. But have him come back tomorrow. Do that thing you did before with the blood and the smoke. I need to ask him some questions. I assume you speak 'dog' and can translate for us."

"Actually, he speaks 'human.' And if you keep up the bossy attitude, you won't see him. Now go to sleep, Lady Sencha."

"I said it's 'Sencha'. Just 'Sencha,' " she grumbled, before complying.

Falling asleep was never a problem on nights like these. If there was moonlight, he would read, of course. But he had plenty to occupy his thoughts in the relative darkness. He could go over jutsu—they got rusty if he didn't rotate through them periodically-- or think about even more mundane things. But tonight he thought about Sakura.

Before setting out to find the daimyou's daughter, Kakashi sent Pakkun on an errand back to Konoha, letter tucked into his collar. He hoped the note, although fairly brief would provide Sakura with an explanation of his actions. He'd hadn't meant to hurt her. He hoped she would realize this after meeting with his most trusted dog.

Pakkun should be on his way back by now. He could run faster than a human, and tired less easily.

The copy ninja smiled as he considered how often he'd thought of Sakura that day. She was foremost in the thoughts that randomly filtered into his mind when it was not fully occupied, and the circumstances of this rescue had triggered even more comparisons. Sencha looked nothing like her, but Kakashi caught flashes of Sakura in certain gestures the girl used, in her impatience, and in her hair trigger temper. It was the Sakura of long ago, however, the Sakura that struck before thinking, asking questions only when her target was wincing in pain. The same Sakura that flirted incessantly, willing to debase herself to be noticed by a boy not worth worrying over.

But that Sakura had disappeared some time ago, replaced by a more level-headed, mature version that was actually a pleasure to be around. She was completely different from her twelve-year old self, or even the fifteen year old that still cried when Sasuke's name was mentioned. She was now grown up, maturing into a beautiful, confident person, a first class kunoichi. She'd come through a crisis intact, no, even stronger than he'd expected.

He wished she'd been chosen to accompany him on this mission. Sakura would have clicked with the little princess sleeping at the back of the cave, and if the girl did have injuries, physical or emotional, he knew Sakura would have cured them expertly, and with the compassion that defined her.

They would have had time to talk, as well. Kakashi regretted being called away so abruptly. It wasn't good to leave an argument unfinished. Even the smallest quarrel could develop into an intractable knot of bad feelings, given enough time. He should have pulled her out of her room that night, and insisted that she talk to him. They would have worked it out, even if it took all night.

But he'd be home soon. It was only a day's journey back to the palace, and then another two days to return to Konoha. A week was not enough time for things between them to become irreparable. He certainly hoped not. There would be some sort of celebration when he and Sencha returned to the compound, although hopefully not a wedding. Kakashi felt quite uncomfortable returning the girl to her expected fate. It was one thing for children to marry each other, but quite another to marry a teenage daughter off to a middle-aged man.

But hadn't his own father done the same?

Sakumo met Naoko in Bordertown, fell in love at first sight, and quickly persuaded the girl's parents to let them wed. As she was a burden to them and Sakumo did not ask for a dowry, they readily accepted, despite the fact that their daughter was only seventeen. And how old was his dad then? Thirty-two or so— nearly twice Naoko' s age.

But Kakashi's parents were in love. Her mother had fallen head-over-heels for her silver haired suitor, and the infatuation deepened into an abiding, peaceful love. Maybe that made things different. Sencha was to be married off to a person she barely knew for reasons that had nothing to do with love. Worse, the practice was perfectly legal, even smiled upon.

It was interesting to think that kunoichi, despite the hard life they endured, were so much better off than even a royal citizen. Maybe Sencha was right. Maybe Sakura, Kurenai and the rest of his female colleagues were more fortunate than either he or they had realized.

Kakashi settled back against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest to keep out the early autumn cold. The sky was moonless and clear, but lit with a ocean of stars that allowed him to distinguish the silhouettes of half-clad trees against an indigo-dark background. The ledge reminded him of his front porch, the stars of the scattered lights of Konoha. There were no crickets singing tonight—it was far too cold for that— but the night that surrounded him still reminded him of evenings spent with Sakura. He imagined her kneeling before him as he ran a wide-toothed comb through her hair. The conversations they'd shared were mundane: talk of weapons and strategies, nothing more. But he'd felt so comfortable by her side. It was unpleasant to consider going home to the place she'd once filled with life.

There was no point in dwelling on it, he told himself. He was a person of action, not reflection. Once he returned to the village, he'd clear things up. Until then it was pointless to replay their altercation in his mind.

He'd rather think, for hours on end, of their happier moments together.

* * *

"What are those?"

"Fish. What does it look like?"

"I mean _those_."

"Sandals. The path today is overgrown. Your feet will be cut up without some proper footwear."

"I'd hardly call that proper." Sencha picked up one of the coiled rope shoes, the type worn by monastics, and eyed it critically. "You made these?" Trust a daughter of privilege to mock another's earnest efforts.

"No, I found them growing from a tree."

"You sew? And cook? How womanly."

Kakashi ignored his young charge, instead busying himself with pulling the fish from the whittle branches holding them above the fire.

"I can't do either. I was too busy following my father around. What a fine wife I'll be!"

Kakashi was certain that Sencha's husband to be wouldn't care a whit about her homemaking skills. He kept this to himself, however.

"You can serve yourself. We'll be leaving in a half hour, and you'll be in charge of carrying the bedroll. You may be interested to hear that our next stop is a day's march from your home. There's a stream you can use to get cleaned up a bit."

"Do I look that bad?" Sencha ran a hand through her mass of curls and sighed. "I'll bet I smell, too."

Again, Kakashi wisely held his tongue.

"There's soy sauce in those little packets."

"This is _good!_" Surprise lit the Lady's voice. Kakashi looked up to see a half-eaten fish hanging out of her mouth. Any daintiness had been forgotten in her hunger for a good meal.

"You've never camped before, I suppose."

"No, of course not. And even if I did, it wouldn't be just two people and a cave. There would be a chef, my nurse and dresser, someone to put up and take down the tents and furniture, unroll the carpets and hang the drapery, _you_ know."

Kakashi had to laugh. He _did_ know, but any experience he had of such opulence was purely vicarious.

"What a rarefied world you live in."

"I never asked to. And I'd happily leave it."

"Do you think you'd survive?"

"I'm resourceful. You have no idea."

She must have been resourceful to hide the signs of menstruation from a household full of servants. Even to have successfully left the palace compound required some skill at subterfuge. He would need to keep a sharp eye on her, he decided. She might suddenly make a run for it, despite his warning about the futility of such a venture. It was obvious she didn't want to return home.

The day was uneventful however, apart from the novelty of hearing a high born young woman swear like a sailor. She cried out novel, filthy phrases each time she tripped or snagged her filthy yukata on a bramble or thorn, and whined every fifteen minutes for a water break or a chance to relieve her bladder. The pair reached the camp a bit later than Kakashi would have liked, but that was to be expected in traveling with a civilian, particularly one who'd never roughed it before. Kakashi's patience was wearing thin, however. This was the worst baby-sitting gig he'd ever been saddled with.

Pakkun was waiting for him when they arrived quite noisily, Sencha apparently making a deliberate effort to crunch every stick in her path (a quite challenging task given the soft-soled, itchy sandals she was wearing). The girl fairly pounced on the unwary dog, eliciting a yelp and a sigh for her efforts.

"Do you talk, too?" she asked loudly, as though she were addressing a person hard of hearing.

Pakkun gazed at Kakashi before answering, telegraphing his indignation with a baleful glare.

"Yes. All ninken do. Didn't Hatake tell you this?"

"No, not really. Do you have a family, too? A bitch of your own?"

Pakkun bared his teeth but responded politely. "If you are asking whether or not I have a wife, the answer is yes. And children, and even grandchildren. And we live in a house, in a village, just as humans do."

"A hidden village? Like with ninja," the girl suggested. Pakkun nodded. "But a _dog_ village."

"I'm afraid the rest is classified," Kakashi interrupted. "Pakkun, do you have news for me?"

The canine sighed again. "I waited outside her door until two a.m. Finally, I fell asleep. Her door opening woke me up, but by the time I figured out what was going on Sakura had already stepped over me and shut and locked it. She didn't hear me scratching, and I didn't want to wake up the building by barking."

Kakashi frowned at the news. Two a.m. Maybe Sakura had started working double shifts. It was characteristic for the over-industrious medic to drown her sorrow— or anger— in work. But it didn't seem like her to ignore Pakkun. He had probably been sprawled out on the welcome mat, the golden tan fur of his belly on full display. He was a small dog, but not easy to miss. Especially his beer gut.

"I slipped the note through her mail slot, so hopefully she got your letter."

"How?" Lady Sencha interrupted.

"Excuse me?" Pakkun stared curiously at one so socially inept as to interrupt a private conversation.

"How did you get the letter through the mail slot? You don't have opposable thumbs."

Kakashi stifled a laugh as Pakkun snarled his response. "With my mouth."

"_Fool_," went unsaid.

"So it was all _droolly_. Does your girlfriend like drool, Hatake?"

Sencha caught on quickly, if not completely.

"She's not my girlfriend. Just a coworker and... friend. Someone I care about."

"But you pissed her off, didn't you? And you were trying to make amends."

A snort from Pakkun confirmed Sencha's hypothesis.

"It will need to be more than a letter, then."

"You know a lot about these things, do you?"

"I may not get out much, but I do _read_. And the servants talk. I know much more about love affairs than you'd think. There's lots of _intrigue_ in the palace."

"She's not my girlfriend. And it looks like the damage I've done may be irreparable. Your help is appreciated, but—"

Sencha continued as though he had not spoken. "Girls like flowers. Or chocolate. Or jewelry."

"She's _just_ a good friend."

Sencha snickered. "Or if you're worried about that seeming too gushy, a small trinket. Like a box or a vase."

"I'll take that under advisement." Anything to shut her up.

"When we get back to the palace, I'll help you out. I've got plenty of things that might work."

"And why are you being so friendly? Didn't you hear me say it was pointless?"

"You rescued me. I owe you. If it weren't for you—"

"Let's talk about that. Tell me everything you remember, everything you saw or heard, from the beginning. Pakkun scout the perimeter and make sure we have no visitors."

With a sharp "hai," the dog disappeared.

The copy ninja prepared an early dinner while the daimyou's daughter spoke.

"I left home just after midnight. The guards' shift changes then, and Nurse made sure I'd be able to slip away. I took the main road out of town and headed toward Southport. Once it began to get light out, I left the road and used the woods instead. But I stayed close, because I was afraid of getting lost. But I did get lost. I was wandering around when I came across a camp. There were at least twenty of them, and I was hungry."

"You approached a group of strange men?" Even the simplest four-year-old knew this wasn't a good idea.

"Why not? I was hungry, and they had food. I'd already cut off my hair by then, so I could pass as a boy, and I still had the knife with me."

"You cut your hair."

What a waste. For a moment he imagined Sencha with long, golden curls. He could see her as a five year old with a still-chubby, cherubic face— a face that was able to get her whatever she wanted. And some day, assuming she filled out, she'd be an incredibly attractive woman. But it made sense for her to cut her hair, and it was a wise move, although not for the reasons Sencha had given. A daimyou's daughter typically wore a towering coiffure, jabbed full of jeweled kanzashi and ivory combs. The loss of this hair, removed the regal dignity she would otherwise have. Until she opened her mouth, at least. But some would mistake that for simple arrogance.

"Yes. And I looked as male as they did."

Kakashi couldn't help rolling his eyes, but he turned away momentarily so that Sencha could not see this.

"Let me guess. They realized you weren't a boy."

"Yes." Defeat colored the young woman's voice. She was laughably naïve, Kakashi realized. No, _frighteningly_.

"How long?"

"They knew right away— and they began arguing. Finally the one who was their leader—"

"What did he look like?"

"The leader? Um, blonde hair and brown eyes. And a scar on his neck."

No one matching that description was in the pile of corpses Kakashi incinerated.

"Continue."

"Well, the guy in charge— Hajime, was his name— he told the others that I was their golden opportunity, that the goddess of thieves had smiled on them. He said they wouldn't have to go into town at all and they could sell me for a good price once they got to Southport."

"So they were slave traders?"

"Well, _duh_. But I figured I'd ditch them when we got there, so I wasn't that concerned."

"Seriously? You were kidnapped by a band of thieves and you weren't concerned?"

Not for her safety? Not for her virginity?

"Well, they seemed a little... slow. And the boss said they weren't to touch me. I think he thought I was nine or ten— that happens to me all the time." Sencha punctuated this statement with an indignant eye roll. "He even made sure they tied me up gently."

Kakashi found this story hard to swallow. While it was true that someone had taken pains to bind her wrists quite gently, it seemed unlike a common thug to leave his victim unmolested. But on the surface, Sencha seemed okay— surprisingly okay. There were no signs of emotional trauma, and physically she appeared to be fine. Either she was a magnificent actress, or there was some truth to her story.

"And was this the camp where I found you?"

"No. We traveled at night."

"In those geta I found you in?"

Sencha smiled her nose wrinkling with triumphant glee. "They carried me after I started complaining. We stayed three different places before you rescued me."

"Any other names?"

One guy was named Ichiro. He brought me my food. And Koto and Kinosuke were my guards. I didn't catch any other names. Sorry."

"Don't be. You can't be expected to collect the names of your captors. You did remarkably well, all things considered."

Sencha smiled smugly. "I told you I might surprise you."

"And so you did." He grabbed his pack and pulled out two towels. They were his only ones, but he assumed his young charge would require— no, demand— both. He also grabbed a washcloth and a small metal bottle of shampoo. "I'd like to get back to the palace by noon tomorrow. You'd better bathe now. I'll set up camp once you're done."

"In the stream? You want me to bathe. In the stream."

"Yup."

"Isn't it cold?"

"Probably. It's autumn, after all."

Sencha picked up the the bathing supplies and walked slowly toward the sound of water.

"But who will wash me?" She turned to face him, hands on hips, a look of complete confusion on her snub-nosed face.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "_I'll_ be watching the perimeter. You're on your own unless you'd like Pakkun's assistance."

"A middle-aged man-dog? Ugh. No thanks. He's too much like my fiance." Sencha disappeared into the trees, and Kakashi had to smile moments later at the small shriek that came from her general direction. That particular stream was fed by glacier melt. It wasn't cold. It was _frigid_.

It would probably be safe to pull out _Icha, Icha_. There were no humans in a five kilometer radius. He'd checked upon their arrival, but with Pakkun around, Kakashi was doubly certain of this. The dog was skilled at picking up the scent of other nin animals as well, and would alert his pack leader should any appear.

Kakashi settled in the branches of a moss-covered oak still clothed with amber-brown leaves and sprinkling of acorns, and paged to his favorite chapter of Jiraiya's first novel. The scene where Junko declared her independence from men seemed particularly relevant today, and the late sannin's skillful juxtaposition of historical setting and modern characterization was as appealing as ever.

The copy ninja easily visualized the novel's protagonist unlocking the chastity belt that bound her to her destiny and, chest heaving with a freedom she'd heretofore only imagined, tearing off the tightly laced corset that symbolized every restriction placed upon a woman of her class. She'd done so with dignity intact, despite the mud spattering her face, hair and sexy underclothes.

Sencha, in her own way, had attempted to do the same. She'd done her best to escape the traditions limiting her future. It would be better if she stayed and fought them, however. He decided he'd help her do so.

And Sakura?

She was still caught up in the traditions, good or bad, that defined her role as a female shinobi.

Even in a village formerly run by a woman, there were undue burdens placed upon kunoichi. Most felt obliged to become medics or nurses, and willingly took on the role of support staff. The men were allowed to become the stars of each team, while the woman did clean up. And while men were sometimes called upon to use seductive trickery to flip a target, they were never trained in those arts. Women were.

Sakura was nothing if not compliant when it came to the expectations surrounding her. She became a medic, as it was the best route for a girl with no particular talent to take, and she did her best in that job, as she did in everything she attempted. She volunteered for hazardous duties, unafraid to risk her life to save a patient and she filled her brain with the minutiae needed to excel in her chosen path. But really, had she chosen it? How many kunoichi led teams? There was Kurenai and Anko and a handful of women in ANBU, but that was the exception to a well-established pattern. Sakura had taken the path laid out for kunoichi. Perhaps she might have succeeded in another, if it had been available to her.

She'd acquiesced to the other expectation she'd met— that she'd fulfill her mentor's legacy. Part of that, in her mind at least, was clearing the debt the Godaime had left behind. That led to the mizuage and the unfortunate events surrounding it. Sakura could have said no to that mission, but she hadn't. She couldn't.

How would a kunoichi like Sakura cut through the chains that bound _her_? Kakashi resolved to help her find this answer. Assuming she was willing to talk to him, of course.

"Find me a hotel."

Kakashi looked down to see a still-disheveled Sencha glaring at him.

"You haven't bathed."

"First of all, I have _servants_. I have no idea how to wash my hair."

The copy ninja couldn't help but snicker aloud. The rich and their affectations never ceased to amaze him. How could "lather, rinse, repeat" be difficult to understand?

"Second, that water's freezing cold! There was a layer of _ice_ on it! Is this your idea of a joke, ninja?"

"No joke. If you were sold into bondage, do you think you would have someone to scrub your back?"

"Bondage? I never would have ended up a slave. I would have escaped from those cretins. I'm clever, you know. And— and if that didn't work, I would have swallowed my pride and written to my father."

_Who would have set off a major international incident, no doubt._

"You're quite the daddy's girl, you know." Kakashi jumped down from the tree. "Well, let's get going. It will be a shame for you to return to the capital city looking like that."

"I said, 'Find me a hotel.' And I wasn't kidding. My father will lock you up if I tell him to."

Something told the copy ninja this was _not_ an idle threat.

Kakashi closed his eyes as he gathered his patience. He had hoped to arrive at the palace by noon the next day. With a somewhat faster pace than today's deliberate crawl, they would have been able to accomplish this. But after side-tracking to the nearest village and a late start the next day, they'd be lucky to get to the capital city by midnight. That meant another day away from Konoha. And Sakura.

"Let's go." The copy ninja grabbed his backpack and left the clearing without looking back. "But no complaining— not a word, or you'll be spending the night under the stars, without a blanket."

Sencha tripped on one of the sprawling roots that interrupted the unblazed trail to Tsubaki-kouson. This was the first indication that she was exhausted. Her lack of subsequent swearing was the second. The girl had been silent for the last three hours of their hike, and Kakashi heard her sigh of relief as they crested the hill just outside the tiny city known for its chai tea.

"You'll need to play your part. Keep your eyes down, and do not speak unless addressed by me."

"I'm your servant now?"

"Well, you hardly look like the daimyou's daughter at the moment." The problem was that she looked too destitute to be a servant either. No hotel would take in a traveling ninja— not with a girl vagabond as companion.

Despite the exhaustion he felt after several nights with no sleep, Kakashi summoned enough chakra to weave a simple genjutsu. He smiled as he noticed Sencha's mouth gape. She was both part of the illusion and a victim of it.

"How did you change my clothes? These ones are...clean." She ran her hands over the simple indigo kimono and haori she wore, a fitting outfit for a servant.

"Ninja trick." He picked his way down the rocky hill, until he found the main path to the town, Sencha hurrying behind him.

"And who are _you_ supposed to be? Only my father dresses that well."

Perhaps he'd overdone the sartorial splendor. Kakashi conceded and revised the genjutsu slightly. Sencha nodded at his more modest attire.

"That's more like it. You're a minor noble now."

They entered the village, which was small enough to lack a twenty-four hour guard, but cosmopolitan enough to cater to businessmen and other travelers. It had a number of inns: Kakashi chose the largest and most expensive looking. He might as well, he decided. He would simply expense it to the daimyou.

Like most of Tea's buildings, the hotel was decorated in a modern style influenced by various foreign countries. This was to be expected in a town and country made rich through the export of tea. The floors were marble, not wood, and covered in plush silken rugs, not tatami. There was no tokonoma displaying a seasonal flower and coordinating scroll, and no open cupboard full of neatly arranged shoes in the vestibule. This was a good thing, Kakashi realized. He had no intentions of keeping up the genjutsu once he arrived in his room, and the lobby staff might gape at the sudden appearance of a pair of crude rope sandals. Or ninja footwear, for that matter.

The copy ninja strolled up to the front desk and asked for a room, using the most courtly, expectant voice he could muster. It worked.

"I assume you want a suite. One with servant's quarters?"

"That would be quite suitable."

Kakashi winked at Sencha as the clerk turned around to locate the appropriate keys.

"No bags?" The rather fussy attendant wrinkled his nose, and Kakashi grimaced at the oversight. It was a clear result of being overly tired, but he prided himself on his mastery of tiny details.

"They'll be arriving tomorrow." Kakashi pulled out his wallet and flashed the cash within as he pulled out several hundred-ryo notes. "This should cover the room. Please give the rest to the bell hop." He looked away to give the clerk an opportunity to pocket at least some of the cash. "Where did you say my room was?"

"Up those stairs." the clerk pointed to the sweeping marble staircase leading to the mezzanine above them. "I'll be your escort."

Kakashi shook his head at the transparency of the clerk's actions. Money might be the oil of every civilization, but greed was the agent turning its wheels.

As soon as they were installed in their suite, the copy ninja shut and locked the door, then flopped on the plush, canopied bed that stood in one corner of the main room. The mattress under him was cushioned with feathers and was just the thing he needed for a back sore from carrying a backpack for days. He'd sleep well tonight.

"_You're_ in the servant's quarters, ninja. Over there. _Get_. _Up_." With strength belied by her tiny form, Sencha did her best to pull him from the bed. She wasn't successful, of course, although she did budge him several centimeters.

"It was worth a try," Kakashi grunted as he got up and busied himself placing wards on the doors and windows. "Sorry, but you'll be locked in tonight."

"Locked in?"

"I intend to get some sleep, and I don't want you disappearing. You won't be able to open these doors." He held the final ward in his hand as he opened the door to the small room she'd deigned to allow him. "That means no room service. I'll see you in the morning, bright and early. Good night." He shut the door firmly behind him, slapped a seal on it, and collapsed on a much narrower, firmer bed.

He didn't expect to dream. On the nights just after a sleepless mission he slept soundly and deeply, a restorative sleep with no room for idle processing of the day's events and daydreams. But tonight was different. He slumbered just under the surface of the river of sleep, and his mind was filled with vibrant images. He was lucid enough to be aware of these imaginings, although not awake enough to direct their progress. This didn't matter. Dreams were not prophecies and typically had little meaning. They were simply the minds regurgitation of events or attempts to process anxieties and worries in a more tractable form. He wasn't surprised to find a scene from Icha Icha on auto-play. Every time he dreamed dear Junko made an appearance.

Tonight was no different. She sat, back to him on an empty balcony, a sheer nightdress billowing around her. The air was warm on his skin as he approached her, and although he couldn't see the night sky he was certain it was moonlit. The scene his mind played out was in shades of black and silver, completely colorless and dark around the edges— a chiaroscuro illustration devoid of any details not immediate to the story. Junko's hair was wet, he noticed, it's normal raven color silver white tonight. Her gown's back was dampened allowing him a tantalizing view of her posterior. Her rump had the twin dimples Jiraiya had described in great detail and drawn in lovely detail on plate thirty-one of the hardbound edition. His objective, lucid self thanked his Sharingan for its photographic qualities.

Kakashi wanted to touch this dream woman, something he was never able to do. But tonight she beckoned to him. He didn't expect to see her face: the sannin always described it in general terms and turned her head away from the viewer in every illustration. When Kakashi's dreams did allow him to see her, Junko's face was bland, an amalgamation of every call girl and whore he'd ever slept with, all of them and none of them at once.

But tonight was different. Junko called his name and when she turned to him, the room slowly brightened. Color came into her face and hair and he realized he was looking into the jewel-green eyes of his favorite student. She kissed him, then, a light caress that sent him reeling. He wanted her, and the small part of his mind observing this dream allowed him to have her. It was only a dream, after all, the mind's way of sorting and processing its daily input. He had no control of his subconscious and nothing to be ashamed of. His conscious self drifted away, allowing his id to take over.

He let her kiss him, let her guide him to the bed that materialized in the corner, filled with pillows and satin hangings, and he stood wordlessly as she removed the thin gown that half-covered her perfect body.

"I want you," she said. "Please, sensei."

This time he didn't back away from her request. Instead, he obliged her. He lay with her in that abundant bed and felt her respond to every caress. He knew she was ready for him without having to ask: he saw it in her eyes, in jade green lakes of limitless passion. She moaned enchantingly as he entered her, and she was as tight as he knew she'd be, as warm and encompassing as he wanted her to be. She opened herself to him, giggling as he pressed her legs to her chest, arching her back to allow him deeper access. Soon he established a rhythm, holding her hands above her head as he plundered every centimeter of her flesh. The bed thudded steadily against the wall as he rocked against her, inside her. She was perfect. They were perfect, and her voice matched his as he cried out in abandon.

He emptied himself into her, and wished he could do it over and over. He wanted to fill her with his essence, with himself, to claim her, again and again. He saw a matching desire in her eyes, the need to have him over and over. He held her tightly for a while, until he saw a blush of modesty creep into her cheeks.

He looked away for a moment to allow her the chance to find her gown and in so doing put a modicum of distance between him. This was fine, his dream self thought, as long as she knew he wouldn't let her leave. He turned back to tell her this, but she was gone, replaced instead not by Junko but with a golden-haired girl who gazed at him with a face that simultaneously reproachful and satisfied.

Kakashi awoke with a start, and stripped away sticky, sweat-covered bedclothes. The steady thumping he'd heard in his dream continued: Sencha was pounding on his door. He hurried to the bathroom, and jumped in the shower to wash away any signs of his unacceptable sex-dream. He scrubbed, liberally dousing himself with shampoo and soap, allowing the bracing jet of ice-cold water to remedy the fire still lingering in his groin.

He found his mask, and stumbled to the door, towel wrapped around his waist.

"What? What do you want?"

Sencha pushed her way into the room, and sat heavily on his still unmade bed. She'd bathed he noticed, somehow navigating the complex array of faucets and taps in her bathroom's shower stall. She, too was clad in a white, fluffy towel.

"Don't sit there. Please." The flustered copy ninja searched frantically for his backpack under the sheets and blankets that littered the floor. He had a change of clothes in there, and if he wasn't mistaken, some foul-smelling liniment that would do nicely as an impromptu cologne. He was sure he still smelled of sex, and it wouldn't do for the fourteen-year old sitting in his room—on his _bed_—to become aware of this. It was bad enough he'd dreamed of her. Kind of. Not really. That was Sakura. Not _her_. And even Sakura was only a dream, just mental rubbish. He had no intentions toward her of that kind. None. Everyone knew a man's body controlled his mind at times, and on missions like these where opportunities for sex—or even masturbation— were few, sex dreams happened. But they meant nothing. Nothing. They _had_ to.

"Ninja. _Hatake_." Sencha stood once she was certain she had Kakashi's undivided attention, and allowed her towel to drop to the floor.

"Dress me."


	6. Chapter 6

Mizuage-- A Naruto Fan Fiction

_Author's note: Thank you for waiting. Some kakasaku interaction in this chapter, finally!_

_**Mizuage**_

Chapter 6

_Dress her?_

Kakashi stared in shock at the fourteen-year old standing before him, buck naked.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

Kakashi looked away, but not before noticing how emaciated she was. She reminded him of a nestling, large-headed and hollow-boned, with a body one could snap in half with the slightest effort.

Not surprisingly, her morning shower had washed off much of the humility she'd acquired in the past day or so. This made Kakashi smile. Ultimately, people reverted to form. He'd seen it again and again.

"Ah. I forgot." Kakashi located his well-hidden backpack and pulled a paper wrapped bundle from it. "From your father."

"Well, _obviously_. Look at the seal." Sencha strode across the room, oblivious to her nakedness, and tore open the package. She pulled out several garments, including what was easily the most extravagant kimono Kakashi had ever seen. The iridescent, gold shot fabric alone was worth a fortune. It wasn't anywhere as beautiful as the one Sakura wore for her mizuage, but clearly it was at least ten times as expensive. That was saying something. Sakura's kimono, had she not torn it into shreds could have supported her for a year or two. The daimyou's daughter growled her next words. "If you had this with you, why did you make me wear that horrible, dirty yukata?"

"If you'd worn this kimono yesterday, it would be in shreds by now. Remember how many times you fell? And all the brambles? We'll be taking the main road from here to the palace. Your clothes will stay in one piece."

Sencha sniffed indignantly. "And my shoes? You made me wear those hideous rope sandals! All this time you were carrying my shoes?" She held a satin-covered geta to her face as though it was a favorite pet and stroked it lovingly. They were relatively low heeled, a result of Kakashi's direct request to the daimyou, but still quite ostentatious.

"You would have tripped and fallen. And unlike your captors, I have no desire to carry you."

"You will if I _make_ you." She wadded up the plainest garment and tossed it at him. "Get on with it."

"Excuse me?" Kakashi had averted his eyes for most of this conversation, but he glanced at her now, allowing himself a better view of her of her emaciated, child-like torso. He couldn't help but notice the near-absence of developing breasts or hip bones. The girl could have been nine – and a child from an impoverished village, at that. It was hard to believe she was fourteen.

Sakura had been so different at that age– almost an adult. She'd survived love and loss by then, and had begun to mature into the graceful, strong kunoichi who'd earned the nickname, "Little Tsunade."

"I can't put on this type of kimono by myself. Nurse and my maid have always dressed me."

The rich were certainly troublesome.

"I'm not comfortable with this, Lady Sencha."

"I'm not shy. I've been dressed since I was an infant. My body is hardly my own." She narrowed her eyes cunningly. "And despite what you've said, I _know_ you're in a relationship. It's not like I'm trying to seduce you, right?"

If only she knew. The tail end of Kakashi's dream lingered in his mind. He set the garment she'd thrown at him aside and searched with renewed vigor for the liniment he knew he'd packed.

"At least allow me to get dressed myself, first. I'm completely uncomfortable with this situation. Wait for me in your room. _Go_."

She sniffed, her hauteur fully returned. But she did retreat, although slowly, like a cat that has decided it will obey its owner, but only because this happens to suit its purposes. Kakashi grabbed some clean clothes from his bag, along with the "cologne" that would cover up any remaining smells of sex. He, too retreated and locked himself in the bathroom.

He doused himself with the foul smelling liniment, then changed into his spare set of clothing. He rested on the bathtub's edge when he was finished, head in hands. He still could not fully process the previous night's dream. Sex dreams were normal– completely normal. But his were always about Junko. Beautiful, faceless Junko who represented everything he loved about casual sex. There was no true intimacy in his dreams, neither for him or his partner. Junko existed to serve him, just as she did in the novels. She took on whatever persona his subconscious wanted to play with, and she disappeared as soon as she finished her assigned tasks. His dreams were all about physical release, nothing more, just as his encounters with the nameless prostitutes found in every border town and mid-sized city were.

But this dream was completely different from those he'd had before. It was more vivid, for one thing. And it was troubling. He'd been thinking of Sakura– that made her fodder for his dreams. But a sex dream? With his student? He'd never thought of her that way. She was beautiful, true. He'd acknowledged this. But she was completely off-limits. She had to be. He didn't do relationships. There was too much accompanying baggage, so much more to deal with than simple sex. He would hurt any woman he became involved with. Surely Sakura deserved better than that.

And then there was the matter of age. Even if she were eighteen, she'd be too young for him. He was thirty-one, a full fourteen years older than her.

And what the fuck was his mind thinking? Kakashi didn't understand how his mind could have inserting Sencha into his dream? Years of reading porn couldn't have turned him into _that_ kind of pervert. His skin crawled just thinking of the ending to his dream, a work of art turned travesty.

"Hell-ooo! What are you doing in there? Did you drown?"

She was standing outside the bathroom door, presumably still naked. The girl had no sense of boundaries.

Kakashi yanked open the bathroom door, hoping to cause his young charge to lose her balance. She hopped away, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"You smell funny."

His face colored, and for the thousandth time, Kakashi was glad of the mask he wore.

"Just like my nurse. Is that Satou's Liniment? Aw. Did you pull a muscle?" She turned away, muttering to herself. He heard the phrase "stinky old people," and couldn't help but smile. The foul-smelling concoction had done its job.

Kakashi grabbed the bundle of silk fabrics Sencha had dropped at her feet and followed her into the master suite. He found the simplest garment, and held it out to her.

"Find the himo and tie it around my waist." The copy ninja stood behind her as she slipped into the nagajuban, her shoulder blades jutting out like the wings of a just-hatched robin. He was glad she couldn't see the wince of repulsion that passed across his face. It wasn't disgust at her, but at the situation that had caused her to abuse her body in this way. Not even a spoiled, haughty, overly-entitled princess deserved to be placed in such a predicament.

"Now find the juban."

He grabbed the other undergarment, this one also plain apart from a heavily embroidered red collar and helped her into it.

"Tie it. Tighter. Now pull up until the fabric is level with my ankles."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now the kimono. Daddy's not so stupid, I see. Usually I wear seven layers, but he included only one."

Kakashi thanked the Leaf god watching over him. Seven layers of kimono would have taken hours. He no longer had that kind of patience.

She dropped the tie she was holding and bent over to retrieve it. Even through two layers of silk he could see every vertebra of her spine. It was too much.

"Sencha."

"Yes?" Her eyes widened at the use of her name, minus the usual -sama.

"I know you don't want to go back." The Lady slumped in defeat as Kakashi spoke. "I have to do the job I was assigned. That's not negotiable. You're right, though."

"I am?"

"That doesn't mean I can turn my back and let you run away. But ...you need to know that I support you."

"What do you mean?" Her grassy eyes showed confusion, and her mouth pulled into a pout that any suitor would find enchanting.

"I have to bring you home, but that doesn't mean things have to stay the way they are. Our Hokage, Naruto–"

"I've heard of him. My daddy thinks very highly of him."

"That's because Naruto is a just man. He does what he knows in his heart to be the right thing. He can convince your father–"

"You have no idea–"

"Actually, I _do_." He'd seen his former student tackle far worse problems. "We'll talk to Naruto when we get back. I can't promise you that your father will make you the next daimyou, but I know Naruto will do his best to keep you from marrying until you're ready. And maybe he can plant the seed for everything else."

"You make him sound like a miracle worker. Ha! He'd have to be."

Kakashi's eye crinkled in a smile. "You'll see. Now, how do I tie this obi?"

* * *

"We've been here three weeks, Hokage-sama."

Three long, annoying weeks. They had spent far too long to spend on this search and rescue mission, and Kakashi was eager to return to Konoha.

"We can't refuse their hospitality. You know that."

Naruto was correct, of course. This was increasingly true, indicating the young Hokage's growth as a leader.

"If we leave now, he'll get angry. You haven't seen him angry, have you?"

Given that the man was ready to declare war over the disputed kidnapping of his daughter, it was easy to imagine his response to a presumed affront.

Kakashi slouched in an over-embroidered chair and paged through the hard-bound orange volume he'd memorized of late. He should have packed the other two, as well. The first was a classic, to be sure, but even it got old after a while.

"The party seems to be winding down," he offered.

"There's another celebratory dinner tonight, but I think that will be the last of them."

Kakashi was sick of fine food and wine, of chamber orchestras and dancing. He hated dancing. The palace staff had provided garments that were completely unsuitable– too luxurious and elegant for any ninja to wear– and worse, Sencha had expected him to dance.

It wasn't completely horrible. He did an acceptable job learning the steps to the ornately choreographed dance and because the partners switched every few seconds, he didn't have to talk much.

Sencha did corner him later, but only to thank him profusely for all that he and Naruto had done.

"I can marry whomever I want! Can you believe it?"

That wasn't quite the case, but Kakashi did not have the heart to break it to her. Daimyou Koicha agreed his daughter would not marry Lord Fujimoto, but she would still be married to someone he considered appropriate. Sencha would have a say, however, and they would wait to marry her until she considered herself ready.

Naruto interrupted his thoughts.

"She's happy, isn't she?"

"You did well, Hokage-sama."

"So did you, Kakashi."

The source of Sencha's happiness was her father's other concession. With the return of his prodigal daughter the emotion-driven man was ready to offer her anything she wanted. Almost.

Despite passionate pleas from Leaf's leader, the daimyou would not agree to the suggestion that his daughter succeed him as leader of Tea. But he did appoint her counselor-in-chief, a position she would retain once married. She would have a say in matters of state, and be listened to as seriously as any man on the daimyou's staff.

The smile on the young girl's face upon hearing the official announcement was enough to start the room laughing. The girl emanated joy, hugging Naruto and then Kakashi fiercely. She whispered her intention to prove herself to her father. From the look of determination Kakashi saw when the girl pulled away from him, he was certain she would succeed.

"You can miss the final celebration, I guess." Naruto scratched his head. "But why are you so anxious to get back to Konoha?"

Kakashi considered Naruto's likely reaction before replying. He didn't need to know the entire truth.

Sakura was foremost in his waking thoughts and nightly dreams, although thankfully he had not had another sex dream starring the pink haired beauty. It was clear to Kakashi that the dream of her was an aberration. He simply missed Sakura. Even a person as socially challenged as him could make that inference.

She came to him in all guises. While reading his beloved Icha, Icha, he'd find his thoughts of the raven-tressed Junko interrupted by those of the frighteningly strong medic, always wearing her split skirt, boots, and the trademark shirt that clashed slightly with her cotton candy hair. His mind didn't embroider anything sexual into these images: she was, as always, only a favored student and late companion. She'd even pop into his mind while he was bathing. The days when she was nearly catatonic, filthy with disregard for her person or soul, flashed before him, and Kakashi could almost feel her limp limbs as he lifted each to scrub them clean. At night, separated purposefully from the exuberant crowd within the palace's salons and ballrooms, he'd stand on an empty balcony and imagine combing her still-wet hair, making temporary order of the chaos that surrounded her.

He missed her. Terribly. Surely she should know this. And if not, he would tell her. But this wasn't the only reason he wanted to return to the village hidden in the leaves.

Kakashi turned to back to Naruto and phrased his next words carefully. It wouldn't do to alarm the Hokage. Underneath the red and white robes lurked the same impulsive boy who'd jumped at every chance to protect his friends. But Naruto's interference in this matter would only make things worse.

"To be honest, I'm a little worried about Sakura."

Naruto stared at his former teacher for a moment as a look of concern crossed his face, then pulled a letter from his kimono sleeve.

"It's from Hinata. Mostly just standard husband-wife stuff. But she mentioned Sakura."

"Oh?" If Naruto wasn't Hokage, he would have pulled the letter from the whiskered blond's hand.

"She's been staying out late. Not shirking her work responsibilities, but Hinata sensed something off about her."

"We didn't leave things on a good note," Kakashi began to explain, quickly formulating a bland excuse should Naruto press him further.

Thankfully, Naruto didn't.

"Maybe it was a mistake to send you out so soon. But I needed you– I don't think anyone else could have found Sencha so quickly."

The Hokage sighed, and an unusual expression clouded the optimist's face. "I never should have let her take that mission."

"She's okay. I'll make sure she's okay."

"Hinata told me it was a mistake. She understands Sakura better than me. I really should listen to her."

Kakashi wisely did not relate Naruto his own report– Pakkun had returned the night before, a lachrymose expression on his usually doleful face. He didn't have good news.

Sakura had yelled at him. This accounted for the glum expression. He liked the girl, Kakashi knew, and her animosity stung.

"She said she didn't appreciate me hanging around outside the hospital waiting for her. That people were talking. And..." the dog had paused a moment before continuing, "that you should kindly leave her alone.'"

"She didn't read the letter?"

"No." Pakkun had nodded toward his collar. "She returned the other one, too."

Kakashi pulled two slightly crumpled missives from the pouch secured to the ninken's back. Both small envelopes were unopened.

He had thought she'd listen to reason– or that at the very least she'd read his letters and tear them up. But to return them unread signified a situation far more serious than he'd expected.

It was a two day hike back to Konoha, but running the entire way, Kakashi made it in a day and a quarter. He didn't stop to rest, nor did he take the time to enjoy the feathers of morning frost on the leaves covering the ground, or the fragile, paper-thin sheets of ice that floated atop the puddles swamping the trail. He was beaten down by hunger and fatigue when he passed through Konoha's modest wooden gate, but this did not stop him from paying a visit to the hospital. It was late afternoon, and unless her schedule had changed Sakura was on duty.

Kakashi had no compunction about entering the place he typically avoided. He walked boldly into Konoha Hospital and rapped his fingers on the reception counter as he waited for the nurse on duty to acknowledge him. Sakura was present, he learned, but busy indefinitely. The nurse looked down at some notes as she spoke, unable to meet his eye, which told Kakashi she was lying. Her hand was shaking slightly, as well: she grabbed a pen to hide this small tell.

Unlike Pakkun, the copy ninja had no plans to linger. Sakura would leave by the back exit if she knew Kakashi was waiting for her, and he had no intention of sacrificing his dignity with a rooftop chase.

"No message," he told the pink-cheeked nurse at the desk, lowering the timbre of his voice ever so slightly to make sure she understood he was not to be disobeyed. The more gruff voice worked like a charm. "She doesn't need to know I was here."

The girl, a civilian, nodded vigorously. It was apparent that she had a well-rooted fear of her ninja coworkers. Kakashi wondered how much of it was due to Sakura's leadership. The hospital seemed to be running more smoothly than it was the last time he visited, although admittedly, those observations had taken place atop a stretcher. No orderlies stood around chatting, and nurses and medics flew past him as he left the building. He felt sorry for them. A pissed-off Sakura was a force to be reckoned with.

Kakashi went home and crashed for a while, not even bothering to make his bed first. The house stood exactly as he had left it, still missing the one thing that had added vibrancy to the otherwise sterile space. The slanting rays of late afternoon sun lit the dust motes stirred into the air as he opened the door, emphasizing the continued loneliness of the small abode. Her absence was even more pronounced here in the space she'd shared for months with him.

The copy ninja was adept at taking his rest wherever and whenever necessary. He therefore managed a few hours of sleep despite the crushing solitude, and awoke hungry and keenly aware of the fact that the only unspoiled food in the place was ramen. It was fairly late and most restaurants would be closed by now, so after showering he headed to a bar and grill instead. A cold beer and some greasy comfort food– neither of which he'd eaten within the walls of the palace– would hit the spot and hopefully erase the sensation he finally recognized as homesickness.

Izakaya Tashibishi was busy, but it always was. Kakashi found a table in the back portion of the grimy, cavernous space, behind the temporary stage set up for karaoke night, and well-away from the already-drunk spectators clamoring for the show to begin. Nevertheless he had to shout the order to his server, as the din was almost unbearably loud.

She was pretty, but of the type he usually ignored– long, curly chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes– as that coloration reminded him of his mother. But he made an effort to appreciate her tonight, gazing approvingly at the curve of her rump as she sashayed across the crowded bar to the kitchen. He wanted to think about someone other than Sakura– someone real.

At the conclusion of each mission, he typically worked in some R&R at any brothel he could find on the way home. He almost regretted not doing so this time. While his dreams had thankfully reverted to their usual subject, Jiraiya's Junko, they had been more frequent in recent days. He needed release, and badly.

The lovely brunette waitress brought his food quickly despite having to fight the crowd again, and Kakashi settled back in the booth, thankful for both its out of the way location and its dim lighting when he removed his mask. The food was wonderful– mediocre bar offerings had never tasted so good. He devoured his plate of fish and chips, quaffed his beer in two gulps and ordered another with a wave of his hand.

He'd worry about Sakura tomorrow, he decided. Tonight he might as well relax and enjoy the environment. Quite a few acquaintances were in attendance. He saw Genma with his hand in its typical location– up his date's shirt– his "rival" Gai with his arm draped over the shoulder of an uncomfortable looking Anko, and Kurenai sitting glumly opposite a man Kakashi presumed to be a blind date.

There was no sign of Sakura, thankfully, although he didn't look hard. She wouldn't be in a place like this, anyway: the drinking age in Konoha was 21, and unlike many others, this pub enforced that rule. A scrum of jounin he would rather not know were crowded around several tables in the far corner, shouting over something stupid, low and vulgar. He saw Dazai Hrinezumi among them, a man who lived up to his animal name. Like the late sannin, Ezumi could pull his hair into spikes, but unlike Kakashi's most beloved author, this man had no one iota of class or respect towards women. He was known for his locker room talk: not the typical mild boasting given in generalities, quick nudges and winks, but horribly specific descriptions of his prowess in conquering (as he put it) the weaker sex. He was, quite simply, a wanker.

The dull roar around him subsided a bit as the first karaoke act took the stage, and Kakashi was able to overhear the conversation of the occupants of the adjoining booths. The group immediately behind him was most clear. Those girls were giggling, unsurprisingly, and gossiping about their love lives and those of their friends. Kakashi tried to tune it out, as he had no interest in eavesdropping unless an assignment called for it, and even less interest in the vapid conversation of drunken young women. But he still heard snatches of their chatter despite his efforts to concentrate on anything else. That was the problem with finely tuned senses: it was almost impossible to attenuate them.

"I'm worried about her."

"I know. Me, too. She's not herself, you know?"

"I'm not sure _who_ she is, lately."

This loudest of the three voice was very familiar, and a bit abrasive, like that of a home-bound wife who henpecks her husband each time he returns to the nest. If he heard the speaker in a quiet room Kakashi was sure he'd place the voice. But he was tired after a three week mission, in need of sleep, and therefore not at his best. Mixed in with the speech of a hundred others, it just wasn't possible to identify a particular person by the sound of her voice alone. He decided not to ruin the game by standing up and taking a quick look over the partition dividing his booth from its neighbor. It would be more fun to see if he could figure it by listening for unique patterns of speech.

"Didn't she ask us to meet her here?"

"Yeah. Ten p.m. I guess she stood us up. Again."

"On other date, you think?"

The loudest of the group snorted disdainfully. "Who knows? I'd hardly call what she's doing dating, though. A date usually takes you to dinner first."

The second act took the stage, and the girls fell silent for a moment, but quickly started to giggle.

"It's Rock Lee! Who let him on the stage?"

Fits of laughter overtook the group, depriving Kakashi of any opportunity to further analyze the groups' makeup. He observed the singer, instead, quickly reaching the same conclusion as the inebriated girls at the next table. Lee had no business performing. The boy was clearly tone deaf, consistently sang each syllable a split second after its corresponding note, and had a strange propensity to cause feedback each time he approached the microphone.

There were jeers as he left the stage, after bowing several times to the contemptuous audience. As usual, he seemed a bit oblivious. He even pumped his fist in the air as he approached his beaming mentor.

So much for the bar's "over 21" policy: Rock Lee was nineteen, if Kakashi remembered correctly. Perhaps the management of the place had changed, and teenagers were now welcome. Kakashi made a mental note to find another place for late night dining and drinking.

The tone of the crowd changed as the opening chords of a melody quite familiar to Kakashi filled the room. The jeers and hollering were gone, replaced with the whistles and cat calls reserved for a woman of obvious sex appeal. Kakashi peered out from his booth to see if he could recognize the singer.

He couldn't. Her back was to him, and the colored lights that shone on the stage made it hard to discern hue or pattern.

Kakashi settled back on the tall backed bench, and finished his second beer in several swigs. He might as well enjoy this rendition of one of his favorite songs. Hopefully the singer wouldn't butcher it.

She didn't. Her voice was perfect for the song, a smooth, rich alto full of emotion. Kakashi found himself singing along in his head, as he pictured the actress who played beautiful Junko Watanabe, voicing the lyrics.

"_I need a man,_

_Someone like you,_

_Someone to hold me_

_and console me_

_when the world has turned gray_

_And my heart looks away_

_from love..."_

Kakashi stood to get a better view of the singer, and half-wished he'd chosen a table in front of the stage. The group of jounin in the opposite corner were leering and making various obscene gestures, suggesting the woman looked as hot from the front as she did from behind.

She did look quite nice. Her body was easily as gorgeous as that of the actress who'd played Junko in the first Icha, Icha The curve of her derriere was pronounced, and her legs seemed to go on forever before disappearing into the short pleated folds of the tiny skirt she wore. He had to admit he was a leg and ass man. There was nothing like a toned pair to excite him.

He might as well look– there was never harm in that.

She had a tattoo on the ankle, Kakashi noticed. It was covered by the fishnet stocking she wore, so he couldn't make out its details, but the thought that she decorated herself in such a manner titillated. He had to wonder if she'd inscribed anyone's name elsewhere on her person.

Her back was muscled, leading Kakashi to believe she was kunoichi. Most of it was exposed: only small strips were covered at the neck and midriff. And she was coming up to his favorite part of the song.

_You won't be hiding_

_your true desires_

_You'll fan the fires_

_that burn in my soul_

_and I'll let you take control_

_all night long_

His faculties really must be off tonight. Like the voice in the next booth, Kakashi was sure he recognized this one. It was so sultry and full of promise, yet terribly melancholy. He approached the stage already crowded around its periphery with the eager, wolfish-looking chuunin and more than a few jounin. Including the drunken Harinezumi and company.

She had them hanging on her every syllable. Or maybe that was the result of her long, graceful legs. Or the way her body moved fluidly as she crooned what was little more than an invitation for wild, hot sex. Even with her back to him, he felt as though she were addressing him personally. Kakashi was sure every man in the room felt the same way. Even without seeing her face it was clear to Kakashi that this woman was sexy. She might be the very definition of the word, considering the way the men nearby were acting.

He couldn't help but be affected himself. If she weren't so inundated by admirers, he might have been tempted to chat her up once she was finished with her seduction of the audience. The fact that he would normally never do such a thing attested to this woman's intense sexual appeal.

Her hair was cut short, in a smooth bob that revealed the nape of her swan-like neck. It moved with quicksilver liquidity as she shook her head. And it was pink, he realized with a shock as the colored stage lights shifted to a single white spotlight. As the woman turned around to address the spectators pressed against the rear edge of the stage, Kakashi saw her face.

Sakura was tarted up in a deeply-cut black halter that left almost nothing to the imagination. She'd pierced her navel, he noticed: a small diamond gleamed at her waist. She leaned down to address the bevy of admirers crowding the stage, much to their delight. Her breasts, almost fully exposed and pressed against each other to display a bountiful line of cleavage rose and fell in a hypnotizing rhythm as she crooned the closing lines of the song.

"_But when I find you,_

_I will remind you_

_That this is not about love._

_It can't be about love._

_But that's just fine."_

Song over, Sakura rose to her feet and turned suddenly, swaying as she did so, replaced her microphone in the chromed stand that stood at front center stage, and shakily descended several steps to her appreciative audience.

It was some time before Kakashi was able to make his way to her. A near sea of men surrounded her, and the copy ninja could feel the combined glare of the many girlfriends left to fade at the periphery of the room. Sakura was enjoying herself, he realized as he finally came within view of her. She was sitting in one man's lap while playing with the zipper on the vest of another. And she was more than a little drunk.

With dismay he realized that the man she was favoring was Harinezumi. She might as well be giving him a lap dance, the way he shifted under her, his legs spread into a wide-open vee. And the look on his face was... disgusting. As though he had pulled one over on every other man in the room.

"I told you I wouldn't be any good." She giggled into the ear of this lizard, the man who was ostensibly her date for the evening.

"You're _good_ babe. Trust me on that one."

Sakura bathed in the guffaws that comment drew, waiting until they'd died down to reply breathlessly, "But that was _scary_!"

She might as well still be on stage. All of this was some kind of show. Kakashi watched, mesmerized like all the others, but for a completely different reason. This must be what they taught in kunoichi classes: how to flirt with abandon, how to flip ones hair, how to bite ones lower lip when feigning reluctance, and how to lick the upper one to show sexual interest.

Sakura sipped her drink now, a bright, orange-red concoction, the type typically adorned with a pastel parasol. The copy ninja observed her closely, noting how her tongue darted out to caress the rim of the martini glass she held. And he saw the glow in her eyes as she batted her lashes at the cro-magnon she'd somehow chosen to be her partner for the evening.

Sakura wasn't acting like herself. Instead she'd taken on the persona of a vapid party girl. Kakashi was surprised by how much this irked him.

It annoyed him enough that he could feel his fingernails cutting through the thick leathered palms of his glove and into his hands.

Enough that darkness was seeping into the edges of his field of vision.

Enough that he rushed forward to grab his former student from the clutches of a man who obviously had less than noble intentions.

The men surrounding Sakura immediately dispersed. Perhaps they were aware of the raging testosterone emanating from the copy ninja, and like the lesser dogs in an extended pack made way for the alpha male.

"What are you doing? Kakashi? Let go of me!" Sakura attempted to wrest herself from his grip, but by then he was halfway across the room, student in tow. She wasn't followed: perhaps Kakashi's friends had held the weasel back.

"You're acting like a slut," the Sharingan user hissed as soon as they'd made it into the relative quiet of the street. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_? What's wrong with _you_? You have no right to pull me away from my date–"

"Your date? Your _date_? I could put together a better date for you from stuff I pulled off the sole of my shoe!"

"Go away. I like him. He's funny. And he likes me."

"Yeah. He _likes_ you. God. Look at you, Sakura! Cover yourself up." Kakashi gripped her shoulder with one hand as he shrugged out of his vest, removing his grasp momentarily to drape the heavy garment over her shoulders.

"_Fuck you, sensei._ What's wrong with how I'm dressed?" Her words slurred. Kakashi wondered how much she'd had to drink. The answer was in her unfocused eyes. He was surprised she was still standing.

"It's nearly _November_. Where did you buy those shoes? At Pink?"

"You mean the store that _you_ shop at? Otherwise known as "Perverts R Us?" Your hyp- hyp- hypocrisy is monumental." The kunoichi laughed uproariously. "Maybe they should erect a statue in your honor. Get it? Erect!"

"Stop it, Sakura."

"Tell me, do you spend a lot of time in back? In the part of the store behind the curtains?"

"I said, '_Stop it_.'"

"_You_ stop it. Where are you taking me, anyway?"

"Home."

She swiveled her head before replying with a sneer, "Well, you're going the wrong way."

Sakura wriggled her way out of his vest and smiled triumphantly as the green twill garment fell to the ground with a thud.

He let go of her to pick up the vest and its contents which were spilled all over the road. Not surprisingly, Sakura attempted to get away. But drunk as she was, she didn't get far. Besides, the patent leather stripper heels she was wearing were not the best footwear for cobblestoned streets.

"Don't act like a child, Sakura. Put it back on."

"I'm not cold."

"That has nothing to do with it. You look like a hooker!"

Sakura struck his face with a resounding slap.

"_Say that again_." She hauled off again, and Kakashi was sure she'd put some chakra behind her next strike. Her chakra control was good enough that she should still be able to manage it while drunk.

"I said you look like a hooker, Haruno Sakura."

He grabbed her fist before it met flesh, which required precise chakra delivery of his own. He wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her against him so that she could not move. She squirmed against him to no avail.

"_Bastard_. You have no right."

"Yes, I do."

He crushed his lips against hers, not pausing when she gasped in surprise, or easing up when she gave in to him. He deepened the kiss when she wrapped her own arms around him and moaned softly in pleasure. She tasted of peaches and oranges, of some girly drink that made getting drunk a more tolerable experience. She was luscious, her lips as soft as he'd dreamed, her body perfectly molded against him, providing a full-body taste of her sensual grace.

Kakashi knew what he was doing was completely inappropriate. One didn't kiss one's students. Not on the lips, hard and passionately. Not under a street-lamp just down the road from a bar.

Not when one was mere moments away from throwing her to the ground and ravishing her.

But it didn't matter to Kakashi. He forced any concerns of propriety to the periphery of his consciousness and focused on the one thing that mattered. Kissing Sakura was the only thing on his mind. And so he did. Again, and again.

And again.


	7. Chapter 7

Mizuage-- A Naruto Fan Fiction

_Author's note: I didn't think I'd be able to get a chapter posted this month, due to nanowrimo. But it's going well, and I'm ahead of the game. Hope you all enjoy this installment. _

_Warning: Strong language and sexual situations in this chapter. Please don't read if you cannot stomach discussions of sexuality. And while you may see Kakashi as a jerk through most of this chapter (I sure do!), know that he will evolve. Ultimately this story is about Kakashi's problems and efforts to change, not Sakura's._

_**Mizuage**_

Chapter 7

Jerking off was a poor excuse for the real thing. But in this case, it was a necessity. Sakura lay passed out on Kakashi's bed, just outside the bathroom. It had taken every bit of strength the copy ninja possessed to stay away from her.

"Let's fuck." Her words had slurred so that this command was barely understandable. Slack eyelids half hid her irises giving her the familiar look of a drunk who has reached the point of blacking out. Her intoxication had increased after he kissed her, and her vocabulary had slid into the gutter. She asked him to do her no less that three times on the way home. But the fact that she'd somehow confused him with that scaly reptile Harinezumi helped Kakashi to regain control. The thought of being mistaken for that pathetic excuse for a ninja was like a bracing cold shower to his libido.

"How about right here?" Sakura had tried to pull him into an alley, and the thought of taking her there in a half public location had brought Kakashi's erection screaming back to life. She'd kissed him, tasting his lips and then his tongue with her own. Then she'd sucked on his tongue in a way that suggested her talents below the belt would be worth experiencing.

It wasn't right to want one's own student. It was disgusting. Depraved. And in Kakashi's case, it was apparently uncontrollable.

He'd never felt so dirty before, so disconnected from what was obviously the virtuous course of action. How could it be so difficult to keep his hands-- and mind-- off her? But it was seemingly impossible. If he went back out there, he'd have her. Instinct would take over and he'd lose control. That was bad. But worse was the fact that he couldn't even keep his thoughts from straying to her as he beat himself off. He tried diligently to envision Junko, but it was Sakura's tits and Sakura's ass that he saw as he hurriedly pleasured himself. Sakura's face, with those beautiful jade eyes loomed over his consciousness as he brought himself to a climax. It was wrong to use her in this way, but he couldn't help himself. Mission completed, he flushed then sat down on the porcelain throne that defined the inglorious nature of his current kingdom.

Sex wasn't supposed to be a vile thing. It was merely a biological imperative. It was nature's trick to promote reproduction, and for that reason it was unrivaled in sensation. Really, it was a pure thing, an act of pleasure plain and simple. But it was for adults, for consenting adults, preferably with no baggage attached. Kakashi knew it was twisted that his thoughts had strayed to Sakura again and again during his masturbatory fantasy. And this despite his legendary control. She was a minor and off limits for reasons beside that. He should have been able to keep her out of his mind for the mere minutes needed to complete the well-practiced task. He was stronger than that.

Kakashi quickly washed up, listening carefully for any sounds from his adjacent bedroom. Still quiet. She was either sleeping or still passed out. He joined her in the dimly lit room, noticing but not reacting to the breast half uncovered by the black fabric of her halter. The copy ninja was pleased to realize that his feelings of lust were now under control.

Blessed, blessed self-control. It was the stuff of his career, the most vital ingredient in the shinobi world. Without it battles were lost. And wars. Kakashi liked to think of his vaunted self-mastery as the fiber underlying each cell of his body, something intrinsic to his person.

But around her, he lost track of it.

She was lying atop the coverlet, her arms and legs sprawled out in an ungainly posture. Sakura looked like a child, despite her sleazy outfit and curvaceous body. Her mouth was half-open, her eyelashes downy black feathers against the pale skin of her cheeks. It sickened Kakashi to think of her in the arms of someone like Harinezumi. She deserved so much better, even if she did not realize it.

He needed sleep, but Kakashi was concerned for Sakura's safety. He had no idea how much she'd drunk that evening. He'd asked her repeatedly during her decreasingly intermittent lucid moments, but she didn't remember or wouldn't say. Sakura did ask for _more_ however.

She wanted more alcohol. A "Samurai slam," in particular. He recognized the drink: sake, vodka, rum and three fruit juices. A concoction guaranteed to kill brain cells by the thousands along with the higher cognitive functions.

She'd demanded more fun as well. She wanted to visit another bar. She claimed she wasn't drunk enough yet, that he'd promised her the night of her life.

And she'd pleaded for more kissing. Well, sex, to be precise. "Izumi, you said we'd do it doggy style," she'd sung out sweetly in the coy, false voice he'd heard at the bar.

This lone statement had nearly sent Kakashi over the edge. The thought of Sakura's rump raised teasingly in the air as that Neanderthal slammed into her was too much for Kakashi to bear.

Only fifteen minutes had elapsed since jerking off but he was horny again. Just from dredging up a fuzzy image. Worse, his balls were blue, as congested as if he hadn't come at all. How was she capable of doing this to him?

Sakura groaned, half sitting up in bed. With characteristic agility, Kakashi jumped out of the armchair he'd placed beside the bed.

"I need to--"

His pink haired student spewed a sweet and sour mixture of tropical juice, alcohol and stomach acid all over herself, the bed clothes and the floor. Kakashi scooped her up without a care for the stink or the stickiness she pressed against him, and raced into the bathroom as she doubled over to heave again. This time she splashed both him and the tufted bathroom rug.

The copy ninja set her down on said rug, and surveyed the situation. She looked awful. The little he could see of her eyes was bloodshot, and her lips trembled.

"Better? Or do you need to throw up again?"

She nodded, and he led her to the commode, kneeling behind her as she leaned over it. She emptied herself until only bile came forth. Kakashi stroked her hair the entire time in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

"I'm done. Thank you, Izumi..."

Kakashi violently pushed the shower curtain aside and ran the water. She still had no idea where she was.

The thought of Harinezumi taking care of a member of the sex he generally described as "cum dumpsters" was ludicrous. The fact that Sakura didn't realize this was even more so.

Kakashi calmed himself and picked Sakura up carefully, after removing her fruit- and acid- scented clothes and rolling them up in the formerly white (and now ruined) rug. He didn't bother to undress himself. Even though he'd satisfied himself only minutes earlier he didn't think he could withstand the temptation of standing centimeters away from Sakura while he was naked.

She remained out of it, even with the shower blasting full in her face, its hot, tiny raindrops pelting her forcefully. Kakashi turned Sakura around to face him and noted her half-closed eyes. She couldn't stand unsupported, and instead leaned against him as she muttered unintelligibly. He grabbed a bar of soap and a dried-out washcloth and began scrubbing. He didn't want to touch her breasts-- not with his bare hands-- but this was the main place she'd splattered with the sticky drinks she'd retched. The washcloth was an inadequate buffer; he could feel the heavy softness of the twin mounds of flesh through the thin layer of fabric.

Even completely incoherent she was driving him crazy.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" Kakashi asked aloud, as he ran the sudsy washcloth over her arms and legs. It was a pointless inquiry: he already knew the answer. She hated herself, just as much as she hated him. Maybe more, although he was the one who'd betrayed her, twice. She'd done nothing wrong either time.

She'd asked him for an intimate act, but it was clear now that she hadn't asked for the reasons he surmised. She didn't want a relationship, or even a one-night stand. She'd considered the act only as a means to healing, a way to become whole again. Kakashi saw that he'd totally screwed up, completely misinterpreting the intent behind her plea. If he'd only looked beyond his own shallow needs and aversions he would have seen how much this simple act would have helped her. He could have dealt with the fallout from Naruto and the council of elders, and taken any punishment they decided was appropriate. It would have been difficult and embarrassing, but he could have made them understand the necessity for the act-- a simple objective interaction between student and teacher. Unorthodox, perhaps. But necessary, and for the good.

It was too late now, however. Kakashi was no longer a disinterested party.

The copy ninja carried his drunken student from the shower and gently placed her on a couple of towels in lieu of the ruined bathmat. She leaned against him once more, her eyes fully closed, her face ashen.

"Are you okay? More nausea?"

She didn't answer.

As he toweled her dry Kakashi wondered how he would explain their kiss. Once Sakura sobered up she'd be livid. He had no right to kiss her. Even though she'd given in, even signaling that she wanted it, initiating the embrace was wrong. She was drunk. Her consent meant nothing. Sober she hated him. Even inebriated she did.

And she had every right to do so.

Funny how life worked. Kakashi wanted her _now_. He hadn't _then_, not when she'd asked him to make love to her. He'd found her attractive at the time, but not in the way he currently perceived her. He'd grown fond of her in the time they'd spent together. He'd enjoyed her presence in his home. He'd even recognized her beauty. But he'd never placed her into a sexual frame of reference.

That had changed this evening. He'd kissed her, and with that embrace everything he'd pushed into his subconscious came bubbling to the surface. He could no longer deny his attraction to her. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It left him crippled by surging testosterone as the primitive, sensual part of his brain short circuited his capacity for higher thought. He lost himself around her-- he literally couldn't think.

If she'd called his name this evening instead of Harinezumi's, Kakashi probably would have broken down. He wanted to be the one inside of her, caressing and being caressed by her. His dreams had been telling him this all along, although he'd been too pig-headed to realize it. He wanted her. All of her. And he was unwilling to share. This evening's events had brought out a frightening possessive streak in him, and Kakashi knew without doubt that he wouldn't be able to let her out of his sight. But he wouldn't have her. The time where an act of intimacy would have been largely for her sake was past. Kakashi was certain that if they fucked now (to use her word), he wouldn't be able to let her go. And then it would be all over.

A one-night stand _might_ be forgiven by the council of elders (after a demotion in rank), and Naruto (after a severe beating or two) but a long-term relationship between student and teacher wouldn't be countenanced. There were few regulations limiting shinobi behavior: this made sense given the dangerous and often illicit nature of their work. But a teacher didn't fuck his student, casually or not so casually. Not during or after their tutelage. Not while she was underage.

Kakashi left his one-time student in the bathroom as he ransacked his linen closet for clean sheets for the bed. He hadn't done laundry before leaving for Tea, and was lucky to find an old patched set that had belonged to his parents years before. It would do. Sakura was in no condition to notice or care.

He cleaned off the mattress as best he could before remaking it and guiding a still damp Sakura to sit on it. Her head slumped forward. Kakashi knelt by the side of the bed and ran his fingers through her short, damp strands of hair. He hated that she had cut it. Kakashi loved her hair: it was possibly her most beautiful feature.

As he watched her fall asleep on her belly to prevent asphyxiation, Kakashi planned his next course of action. He needed to fix what he'd broken. He needed to fix _her_. The copy ninja left his house as soon as it grew light outside, leaving a note behind just in case Sakura woke up before he was gone.

He needn't have bothered. She was just stirring when he returned.

She looked around her in confusion after opening her eyes, then clutched her head.

"Ow. The light. Please-- _Kakashi_?" Sakura's eyes widened, then winced as she recognized his silhouette. He closed the door behind him to keep out the light streaming in from the hallway and living room.

"What am I doing here?" she looked down at her sheet-covered form and realized she was naked. "Did we...?"

He shook his head, and caught a glimpse of something that looked surprisingly like sadness flit across her face.

"Then why am I here?"

"You were stinking drunk. I was worried about you so I took you home. You don't remember?"

She moved her head slowly back and forth, her eyes screwed shut to prevent dizziness. "I remember singing. I was on a date with Izumi. Where did he go?"

Kakashi heaved an inward sigh of relief. If she didn't remember, he didn't need to tell her about the kiss he'd forced on her. This was coming to a far more tidy close than expected.

"He let me take you. Decided it was for the best." Well, _not_ _exactly_, but what Sakura didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

The hung-over kunoichi pulled the sheet around her as she climbed out of bed, then stood like a first time sailor in need of sea legs. She swayed slightly, and her face took on a faint tinge of olive green, a color that would have been unattractive on anyone lacking her extraordinary pink hair.

Kakashi had to laugh, although he did so silently, his unmasked face turned away from her. Even hung over she was enchantingly beautiful.

"Where are my clothes from last night?"

"Ruined. You threw up all over them." The copy ninja tried to inject some levity into the situation. "If you really want them I'll get them out of the trash."

She took him seriously. "No. I'm sure you're right. They're just rags now." She groaned in pain, giving him an idea of the severity of her headache. "But why am I naked? You couldn't have covered me up or something?"

Kakashi shrugged. "It's not my fault that you move around when you sleep. And I didn't think you'd want me dressing you. And there was a good chance you'd throw up again. I'm not as big a pervert as you think I am. I hardly looked."

She ignored this half-hearted attempt at humor, as well. "God, my head hurts. Do you have any aspirin?"

"After you eat something."

"I can't eat. I'll throw up. I think I'm still a little drunk."

"Yeah. Probably."

She looked distinctly uncomfortable as she looked around the room.

"I... need to get going. Can I borrow something to wear?" Her reticence suggested she didn't want to ask him for a favor even this small. He knew how she felt. He'd experienced post-bender mortification once or twice before.

"No need." Kakashi opened the bedroom door and dragged in several overstuffed garbage bags. "You should be able to find what you need right here."

Sakura knelt, one hand clutching the knot of the sheet wrapped tightly around her, and tore open one bag with black-painted nails.

"This is _my_ _stuff_. Why is it here?"

"New orders."

"What?" She closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her temple, inadvertently causing her drape to loosen around her. He saw more breast than he wanted to.

"You'll be staying with me from now on."

She jumped up and staggered slightly, but her voice was charged with the clear anger of a sober person.

"No, I _won't_! What the hell is going on?"

"Hokage's orders. He heard about what was going on from Hinata."

"_Naruto!_ Damn it. I don't want to stay with you."

Kakashi shrugged. "You're too valuable to the village to be getting drunk every night. They need you sober and doing your job."

"I _have_ been doing my job. Did someone say otherwise?"

Kakashi didn't answer, as he had no idea.

Sakura grabbed a handful of clothes. "Get out. I need to change."

"Going somewhere?"

"Yeah. To see Naruto." Her hands clenched ominously around the bundle she held, her knuckles white. "We need to have a little talk."

"It will have to wait. He's not back from Tea yet." Kakashi moved to the doorway, and regarded her with an assumed coolness he hoped she'd find annoyingly in character. "Orders are orders, Sakura."

And they _would_ _be_ orders. As soon as he convinced Naruto of their merit.

"So I'm going to be living with you? Again? For how long?"

Kakashi shrugged again. "I spoke to your landlord this morning about subletting your place."

"You did _what_? You had no right. You're not my guardian. He actually listened to you? I'm homeless now?"

Sakura was spitting mad. Her eyes were lit with rage and Kakashi feared she might start swinging. Still, he soldiered on.

"It didn't take much to convince him. Apparently he saw you stumbling in drunk a few times too many. Didn't think you were the best kind of tenant."

"You're an asshole." Sakura started dressing in front of him as it dawned on her that he had no intention of leaving. The tactic worked. Kakashi quickly turned away and pulled the door behind him.

"Maybe. But I won't have a student of mine behaving with such depravity." He shut the door behind him and wondered exactly which bedroom object she had thrown after him. Whatever it was, it cracked the wood of the door.

Sakura emerged from the room several minutes later, as livid as he expected, and stalked into the kitchen where he was preparing a late breakfast.

"Where's the aspirin?" she growled.

"Under the bathroom sink. There's a first aid kit there."

The fire-breathing kunoichi stalked off, anger steaming from every pore.

"You can't make me stay here," she spat when she returned.

"It's not my decision." Another lie, but a ninja's missions were filled with subterfuge.

"Are you going to put me in that stinky dogs' bedroom?"

"You can have the master if it's that important to you."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"How is my living with you supposed to help anything?"

"Presumably I'm to keep an eye on you."

"But I _hate_ you! I can't stand the sight of you--"

"I know." Kakashi looked away. He knew only too well.

"I don't want to spend every waking hour with you."

"You won't. You have work. Long hours at the hospital."

"You know what I mean. I won't do it."

"Well, you'll have to deal with the consequences, then."

"I hate you."

"Yeah. You already said that." Kakashi focused his attention on the miso soup he was fixing. "Let me know if you get hungry. I made enough for two."

"Fuck you and your Susie Homemaker attitude. I'm going out." Sakura slipped on her sandals and slammed the door behind her.

She didn't return for thirty-six hours.

* * *

In hindsight, it was probably a mistake to force Sakura to move in with him. She acted like a hostage, although not like one who has developed Stockholm syndrome. She made her feelings about her so-called captor clear.

She was tolerating him, nothing more. And she refused to come home directly after work, despite Kakashi's suggestions that this was what Naruto wanted.

But she did behave herself, at first. When Kakashi awoke Sunday morning she was pacing back and forth in the living room like a caged tigress. He didn't understand why. She'd returned to the house the night before, offering no explanation of just where she'd been for a day and a half. He hadn't asked, not wanting to ire her further. Nor had he placed any seals or wards on the doors or windows to keep her there. She was free to come and go as she wished.

But she stayed that day, and was grudgingly polite when they dined together.

Throughout the first part of her homecoming week they'd even walked into work together, she to the hospital, and he to the jounin's lounge in the copper-roofed administrative building. But on Wednesday she wasn't there when he came by to pick her up.

Someone else had come for her, a frightened receptionist confirmed. A man with hair even more spiky than _his_. Kakashi nearly spit nails.

He decided to trail Sakura. His motive for keeping her with him was to keep her away from Harinezumi, and every other Joe Ninja attracted to her like a tom cat to a stray in heat. Obviously he'd failed.

Kakashi couldn't go through with the reconnaissance, however. He followed her Wednesday evening only, but aborted the mission halfway between the hospital and the iyazaka. He felt like a cuckolded husband, seeking evidence of his wife's infidelity.

The idea of having her stay with him was a stupid one, he realized then. He couldn't force her to change her behavior, and no words he could utter would make her forgive him.

But he couldn't change her orders midstream. Sakura would realize he'd lied about their source. Kakashi decided to make the best of the time she _was_ present in his home. Continued kindness on his part might soothe some of her raw feelings. Maybe she'd get to the point where they could discuss calmly why he'd rejected her. That was too strong a word, he decided, loaded with judgment. Why he'd "let her down" would be a better, softer way to phrase it.

The problem was she was rarely there. She began rising before him, and he heard the door slam each morning when he'd barely opened his eyes.

She was staying out late, too, returning only after the bars had closed. And Kakashi was waiting up for her like an anxious father. In his room—the dogs' room-- with the lights out, and with no intention of engaging her in an argument when she did arrive. But waiting nonetheless.

He'd accomplished nothing by making her move in with him. Rather, he'd worsened the situation.

Kakashi didn't bother stopping by the hospital tonight. He had no doubt that she'd already left. And he didn't feel like eating alone again, either. He stopped in at Ichiraku instead, much to Ayame's delight.

He tried to use her as a sounding board, but the ever-cheerful waitress would have none of it. She had too much news of her own to tell him. She prattled on about soups and menus as Kakashi slurped down his evening meal. He hardly listened. He was still fuming about Sakura's escape act.

"Once you're done could you do me a favor and walk me home?"

"Sure." It would kill a good hour, as Ayame and her dad lived on the far side of town. That meant one less hour for Kakashi to spend at home, alone.

Ayame was clumsy, Kakashi realized as they walked together. Twice he had to catch her when she tripped over her own shoes. She smiled at him each time in thanks, warm open grins free of deceit or doubt.

"Come on in," she said as she unlocked the door to a very small stucco house. The plump-cheeked ramen-server gestured to the couch. "Wait here for a minute. There's something I want to show you."

It smelled good here, like ginger and garlic, sesame oil and shoyu. It was a comforting fragrance, like that of good home cooking.

She was taking her time. Kakashi amused himself by examining the magazines on her coffee table. Who would have thought there'd be a magazine for ramen? Five, in fact, from different publishers. He considered mentioning them to Naruto, then realized the man probably already knew. The Hokage was still fixated on the stuff.

"What do you think?"

Kakashi blinked twice as he shifted his gaze to Ayame.

"Is that a wedding gown you're wearing?" She had donned a pure white kimono, woven in a traditional dragon- and phoenix- patterned brocade. She'd even put on the matching hood, though she hadn't gone so far as to smear herself with white makeup.

"Yes. It just arrived from Bordertown. My mom finally sent it along. It was the one I was supposed to wear to my wedding. I guess I'll be reusing it. Is that bad luck?"

"I don't think so. I'm sure you'll be a beautiful bride."

"You think so?" Ayame's eyes lit with a vestal fire that was quite attractive.

Kakashi wasn't flattering her. With her skills at cooking and her attentiveness Ayame would make someone an excellent wife. Not a ninja, most likely-- they did better with their own kind-- but some villager would be a happy man someday.

"I should be going." He raised his voice to announce his departure. She'd left the room, presumably to change back into casual clothes, but came shuffling back in a red uchikake, the second kimono to be worn at a reception.

"Ah. Even prettier. You wear it well, Ayame-san."

"Just Ayame, please."

"Ayame." He smiled behind his mask. It was nice to be around someone drama-free for a change. "The man who marries you will be very lucky."

"Hajime didn't think so."

"He was a fool."

She blushed profusely. "W-will you be around tomorrow? We've missed you at the restaurant."

"Yeah. Maybe." He couldn't stomach the thought of cooking for one.

She lingered at the door as Kakashi showed himself out. He turned and saw her waving, her long, formal sleeve flapping in the wind.

She was a little strange, he had to admit. Intense. But so nice. And pleasant. And fairly predictable. Kakashi wondered what Iruka thought of her: he ate at Ichiraku often enough. Although a ninja, the chuunin was enough of a homebody to appreciate someone like Ayame. Kakashi made a mental note to bring it up the next time he ran into the academy teacher.

Doing so might make up a bit for the huge karmic screw up Kakashi had precipitated this week. Someone deserved happiness: why not Iruka?

* * *

Naruto wasn't back yet. Once he did return, Sakura's errant behavior would come to a crashing end. She obviously didn't respect Kakashi, but she'd listen to her friend. He was the the village's prime authority, after all. Naruto would lay down the law and take responsibility for its enforcement. Kakashi would no longer be the bad guy, the long-suffering parent to her rebellious adolescent. There was nothing Sakura wouldn't do for her former teammate and longtime friend, even if he weren't the leader of the most powerful hidden village on the continent. Naruto would make her see reason, show her that giving herself away to cretins like Harinezumi was far, far beneath her. That she was worth far more than a half-life like him.

But two weeks after Kakashi's return to the village Naruto was still in Tea, although a recent message indicated his entourage was on its way home.

Sakura's behavior had escalated in the past few days. She was probably in a bar right now, getting shit-faced as Harinezumi and his companions egged her on. She'd come home at some point in the night: her thirty-six hour AWOL was the only time she hadn't returned to the house. But it was long past dark, as night came early at this time of year, and Kakashi worried about her stumbling up the long series of stairs cut into the Hokage monument. When drunk even a shinobi with chakra control as good as Sakura's would have trouble righting themselves from a fall.

It was a long way down to the ground.

Kakashi headed outside and took the wide, paved path that led from his house to the upper ledge of the rock face. There was no sign of her, and the gusting wind would have driven off any lingering scent. The copy waited for a while on the wooden bench placed there in honor of some long dead village elder and stared at the lights of the village below. At nine o'clock on a week night, tavern business was slow. Sometimes the bars even closed early, unless business spiked due to the unexpected return of a team of shinobi. This was true tonight. Kakashi watched the pinprick lights of downtown extinguish themselves one by one, leaving only erratically spaced streetlights still burning. They were rolling the carpet up early tonight.

It was almost fully dark, apart from the intermittent light of a near full moon. Deep grey clouds scudded across the sky, at times almost extinguishing the sickly lunar illumination. Kakashi could feel the first signs of an approaching cold front: the sites of several old bone fractures ached in weather like this. The air was becoming increasingly wet, defeating the insulating ability of his cotton vest and pants. It was time to break out the wool clothes and cape. The ground would be iced with frost in the morning, and the steps carved into the cliff's rock face treacherous.

Sakura should be on her way home by now. After last call, even the prettiest girls were asked to leave. Of course, she might have gone home with someone. It was still relatively early.

Kakashi waited a good twenty minutes more, then headed back home. If she had returned perhaps he had just missed her. She wouldn't be foolish enough to stay out all night. That would be in direct violation of the order Kakashi had relayed to her. Sakura generally followed the rules. She was a lot like him in that regard: punctilious when it came to certain, seemingly random subjects.

There was a secondary path back to the house, an unpaved one that meandered through the trees of the small forest that ran alongside the Hatake home. Kakashi took that route now. He assumed she had done the same earlier, causing him to miss her.

He heard the sound of animal grunting as he came closer to the house. And moaning. Familiar moaning. The sight of Harinezumi with his pants around his ankles was not one Kakashi wanted to see, but the image etched itself into his retinas. Nor was the copy ninja pleased to see Sakura partially clothed, grasping the rough-barked tree in front of her while her partner (Kakashi couldn't bear to call him "lover") pummeled her from behind.

The copy ninja quickly attempted to hide his chakra, but with the distraction in front of him this was hard to accomplish. He had an unobstructed side view through a small opening made by two interwoven fir branches, clad heavily with needles. Kakashi could see and hear everything. Her black shorts were missing, and her tan overskirt was hiked up around her hips. Its buckles jingled slightly each time Izumi slammed against her. Every stroke of that man's flesh into Sakura's was like a kunai into Kakashi's flesh, every soft feminine scream of pleasure a klaxon to his ears.

In spite of this pain, Kakashi couldn't stop watching. Like a bystander at a slow moving caravan wreck, he couldn't pull his eyes away. She was sexy, so sexy, even if it was someone else giving her pleasure. He shouldn't be watching, he knew, but he almost felt he had to. He needed to see just what was so enticing about this beast of a man she'd chosen as fuck buddy.

Kakashi quickly realized that something wasn't quite right. He'd watched enough pornography to recognize when someone was faking it. Sakura's act was not that different from the one he'd seen at the night club. Her moans were well executed, but the timing was slightly off. They didn't fit the rhythm Izumi had established. And Sakura was staring at the tree she clung to as though she were contemplating the Fibonacci sequence hidden within the spiral pattern of its bark. Every now and then Kakashi caught her turning her head towards the clearing abutting them. Perhaps her neck ached. With the pounding she was taking, he wouldn't be surprised.

Her little peep show was mesmerizing, despite her choice in sexual partners and her poorly hidden lack of interest. Kakashi's cock throbbed as it strained against his pants. If he cut Izumi out of the picture and imagined that it was he who was fucking her, he who was making her moan, but with unaffected abandon... The copy ninja nearly lost it. Sakura was unbelievably hot, more so than any porn star he'd ever watched, infinitely more than any prostitute he'd ever bought. Her ass, her firm, beautiful milk white ass taunted him.

And those tits.

She'd freed them from the red zipped top-- the same shirt she'd worn for years, though a slightly larger iteration. No bra, he noticed. No need. Her breasts were firm, the copy ninja knew. He'd touched them quite recently, through a washcloth of course, and felt them pressed against him each time she'd graced him with a hug. Back when things were better between them.

Sakura massaged one perfect half globe of flesh with her own hand, as apparently Izumi couldn't be bothered. Kakashi stared rapt, as her fingers pulled at the hardened, pale pink nipple, distending it further.

_He_ should be the one doing that. _He_ should be the one fucking her crazy. Not that...animal.

Kakashi's hand moved of its own accord, but he stopped himself before doing something worse than masturbating to his student's image. _That_ was Jiraiya territory. Kakashi might be the man's biggest fan, but there were some aspects of the late sage's lifestyle that he had no desire to emulate. Beating off while watching one's student being banged was clearly one of these.

He had to get out of there.

The copy ninja removed himself carefully from the scene, backtracking to the cliff-top bench overlooking the village. It was getting colder, and the wind had picked up. Intermittent gusts of icy wet air blew back his unruly hair. A norther was coming through, and that was fine with him. The elements would do the trick, forcing his blood to flow away from his extremities to protect his heart and other vital organs. Kakashi sat in the cold for quite a while: it took his mind quite a while to put aside the images generated by his small foray into voyeurism and his body even longer to redirect the blood flow. That wasn't surprising. The hard-on he'd felt as he watched Izumi and Sakura go at it was not trivial. If he'd gone directly back to the house Sakura would have easily seen the evidence of his misplaced lust.

Half-frozen but body finally under control, Kakashi hurried back home. He found Sakura waiting for him in the living room, sitting on a dining room chair as if installed on a throne of judgment.

The look in her eyes said everything.

"Have fun with your little wankfest?"

"Excuse me?"

"I saw you watching. Pervert. Took you long enough. Guess you really get into it once you start fap-fap-fapping away."

Kakashi was glad of his mask. He could feel his cheeks turning bright red, something they never did. _Never._ He was hard to embarrass. Anyone who read porn in public had to be. But somehow, Sakura was managing it. The S-class ninja was putty in her hands.

"You're way off base, Sakura. I saw you, but that was it. I would never _dream_--"

"You need to work on your chakra control. I could feel it swirling all over the place. The way a man's will when sexually aroused."

"That must have been Izumi."

"No. I recognize yours."

What if she'd followed him from the scene or her crime and caught him in the act? There'd be hell to pay right now. It was only with the greatest self control that he'd been able to keep his hands off himself. Kakashi attempted to calm himself by going to the window and looking outside. He saw only his reflection, however, due to the inky dark outside. But Kakashi knew what should be there: a tiny lawn, bordered by a grove of stately fir trees.

She had done this on purpose, he realized. She'd situated herself and Harinezumi so that they'd be facing this side of Kakashi's house. The same side where the bedrooms lay. In fact, their location was directly opposite the dogs' room, the room Kakashi had moved into to mollify Sakura. Embarrassment quickly turned to anger, a much more familiar and controllable emotion. He gave it full rein now, however. He didn't feel like holding back: she had no right to behave in this way.

"I hope you used your Sharingan. What with its photographic capabilities and all."

"You _wanted_ me to see you and Izumi. You were right in front of my bedroom window! When did you become an exhibitionist?"

"I haven't." Sakura lifted her chin defiantly. "I did it because you deserved it."

"How? _How_ did I deserve it?"

"I know."

"You _know_?" His stomach plummeted as he interpreted her words. "About--"

"About _everything_. I know you kissed me."

She remembered. _Shit_.

_Shit, damn, fuck._

"Izumi told me about the scene in the bar, and the rest slowly came back to me. But I figured you had a reason for not telling me. Embarrassment or something. Mistakes happen, right? Moments of misplaced passion? Subverted anger? Not to get all Freudian on you or anything."

"I _was_ embarrassed." More like disgusted with himself, but the word choice was good enough.

"And then I remembered that you called me a slut." Her eyes turned chartreuse as her pupils dilated in anger.

"I didn't call you a slut. I said you were _dressed _like one."

"No, you didn't. I remember. And then you called me a hooker. It's funny. I'd think that would make you happy since sluts and prostitutes are your thing. Izumi told me about your visits to the brothels on the border. Apparently you're a regular. And a hypocrite."

"That's not what I meant. Sakura--"

"_Right_. You meant something _pleasant_. 'You look so beautiful, Sakura, just like my favorite hooker.' How dare you!" All of this was said with a smile, a menacing, predatory, toothy grin that Kakashi had never before seen.

He wasn't surprised when she pounced.

"Hey! Guess who's back in town?"

Kakashi's eyes widened._ Naruto?_ Son of a bitch. The report said he'd be back the next day.

"Turns out he didn't know anything about this _order_ you mentioned. He did say I should stay with you until he figured out what to do. But that doesn't change the fact that you're in trouble, Kakashi." The smile on her face twisted with schadenfreude, as though she was looking forward to hearing the details of his punishment.

Kakashi backed out of the room with alacrity. He'd better get his audience with Naruto over as soon as possible.

"Before you go, answer this. Why?"

"Why?" Why _what_?

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Because... it's hard to explain." It was too complicated. He hardly understood, himself.

"You want me. Admit it."

He couldn't.

"You know, I was angry at you before, and I thought I hated you. But it turns out I didn't. I know this because I really _do_ hate you now. You're a coward, a miserable coward. You wanted me all this time. But still you pushed me away. You made me feel like scum, like the least worthy kunoichi that ever walked the earth." There were tears in Sakura's eyes that did not match her angry mien.

"I don't get it," she continued. "I _don't_ understand! Why?" Her voice softened, and for a moment she looked like a lost child, terrified and inconsolably sad. "Why did you... reject me?"

"_Because_, Sakura. Because it's not allowed."

Instantly the childlike version of Sakura disappeared, replaced by the form he was more used to of late. "Fuck you, Kakashi. Fuck you and your damn rules."

Kakashi was glad to be called to see the Hokage, even in the face of the upbraiding he was likely to endure. He couldn't stay here, that was for sure. Sakura seemed alternately crushed and enraged. He had no doubt which emotion would eventually prevail.

He'd known for some time that Sakura was capable of permanently maiming him. Her chakra was that strong, her shishou's teachings that deeply instilled. With a little time she'd calm down. But Kakashi no longer deluded himself by thinking that she'd ever forgive him.

Instead he wondered how much of his house would still be standing when he returned.

* * *

"It's against the shinobi code to take on the authority of a superior. Particularly the Hokage's."

"I know that, Hokage-sama." Kakashi had memorized the entire code as a nine year old, committing every word to heart. It hadn't changed since then: Konoha's code was as old as the village, and the heart of its work. It could be distilled into several ideas: to support the village in all you did, to support its generations-old traditions, and to follow the chain of command in all situations.

"If I thought less of you, I'd strip you of your rank."

Which meant Naruto _still_ thought well of him. The Sharingan bearer heaved a sigh of relief.

"Care to tell me what's been going on?"

"When I got back to town I saw that things were worse than what Hinata told you. Much worse. Sakura was completely out of control. Blind drunk, promiscuous..."

"I don't like saying this, because a big part of me feels the same way as you. But her sexual choices are none of your concern. Or mine. It's her business who she chooses to sleep with. End of story."

"She was harming herself. As her teacher I had the duty to step in."

"I agree. About the drunkenness part." Naruto leaned on his elbows, shifting the many papers that lay scattered across the broad wooden surface of his desk. "You were right to remove her from the situation. She was drinking illegally. But you had no right to force her to stay with you. Especially by lying to her. That was way over the line."

Kakashi sighed. "I know. It didn't work, anyway."

That was an understatement. Kakashi wanted to erase the past two weeks. He'd done nothing but hunt an already damaged relationship to the point of extinction.

"I only wanted to protect her, Hokage-sama. After what happened--"

"The mizuage was her decision. She's an adult."

_Really_? Last time Kakashi checked, Sakura was seventeen and still a minor under Konoha law. So it was wrong for her to _drink,_ but okay to have sex with random men nearly twice her age? The idea was nonsensical.

"This job is so hard." Naruto removed the silk-trimmed hat that had once belonged to his father, and held his head in his hands. "Especially when it comes to friends. I know why you did what you did. I totally get it, Kakashi. I probably would have done the same." He laughed at the irony of the situation. "I _know_ I would have-- you know how I am. The only person I care about more than Sakura is Hinata. If she were hurt, I don't know what I'd do. But... she's not my wife, and she's not my little sister. She gets to decide how to live her life. Not me. Not you."

Once again the student had proven himself to be the master. Naruto's maturity was astounding. It was easy to see the kid in him, the boy who would do anything to protect his friends, no matter how rash or ill advised. But present also was a natural leader, a man still in his teens whose wisdom outstripped that of people several times his age. The village had chosen wisely when they appointed him Hokage. His decisions were well thought out, and filled with the compassion that defined him.

But Naruto couldn't make the right decision without all of the facts. And Kakashi had no desire to enlighten him.

"She's still sick, Naruto." Kakashi rarely addressed his former student this informally, but the situation warranted it. He needed to appeal to the kyuubi container's emotional side, the oft exercised part of him that acted before thinking, without weighing passion against logic.

But the Hokage didn't appear to be swayed. "How do you know?" he asked quietly.

"Because she hates herself. I see it in her eyes. How is it fair to let her do this to herself?"

Kakashi knew he was a liar, a terrible liar, although one of omission, not outright untruth. Naruto didn't have the whole story, and if Kakashi could help it, he never would. What would the Hokage do if he learned Kakashi had a nearly uncontrollable attraction for the person he cared about almost as much as Hinata? And while it was true that Sakura hated herself, she hated Kakashi as well. Her animosity toward him was like a poison tainting both of them. Kakashi desperately wanted to purge it.

The problem was he had no idea how to accomplish this. Kakashi was out of ideas, and as the one he'd already tried was a miserable failure he had no intention of brainstorming others. The poor quality of his failed plan stood to reason, as women's thinking was a mystery to him. He didn't get how their minds worked. Never had.

"Are you asking me to put her back into your care?" Naruto eyed his former teacher critically, as though he were trying to measure some hard-to-sense facet of Kakashi's personality.

"No!" Kakashi said this too forcefully, and the Hokage responded in kind.

"Why not? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"We've reached... an impasse. To be honest, the behavior hasn't stopped. I didn't feel right giving her a curfew-- I didn't think she'd buy it-- and it was ridiculous to chaperone her. I thought proximity would be enough. But I was wrong. I can't handle her."

"Are you really surprised? It's one thing to take care of someone recovering from a trauma. A person in that condition needs someone to take charge. But Sakura's well. You said she was doing better before we left for Tea. I'm not surprised she rebelled. She's got a river-wide independent streak. She doesn't like to be told what to do." Naruto ran his fingers through hair that had been matted down by the weight of his red and white hat. "But you know, she's always hoped for acknowledgment from you, too. Maybe--"

"Hokage-sama?" The door opened and Iruka entered, scroll in hand. "Sorry to disturb you, but I've got an urgent message."

It was from Tea, Kakashi saw. He recognized the seal decorating the ends of the parchment scroll.

Naruto silently took the proffered document and read through it. Agonizingly slowly. Kakashi stood to excuse himself, but was waved back into his seat as the former "D" student continued to read.

Naruto spoke, finally, and Kakashi sensed a glimmer of hope in the younger man's voice.

"I've got a mission for the two of you."

"To Tea?"

The Hokage nodded. "Come to think of it, this might be just what Sakura needs. An opportunity to prove some things to herself. And to do some good." Naruto rolled up the scroll and placed it in a desk drawer.

"Get packed and be back here with Sakura at 0600 for a briefing."

"Another mission to Tea," Kakashi thought to himself as he walked the empty streets leading out of town. His stomach clenched as he imagined what this mission entailed. If it needed a kunoichi, he had an inkling.

The ring that had kidnapped Sencha was likely at it again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Mizuage**

_Sorry for the delay in posting this-- I've been ill. _**  
**

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Chapter 8**

"Get away from me."

With an alacrity he'd rarely seen from her, Sakura bounded away from Kakashi and out the village gate. He sped after her, if only to prevent the curious stares of onlookers.

Kakashi caught up with his teammate a good three kilometers from the village. He hadn't needed to track her, thankfully—she'd stuck to the route traveled by most heading south from the village. But the fact that she eluded him for a good five minutes said volumes about his body. It was aging, and he was nowhere near as fast as he used to be.

"You're breaking protocol," he stated quietly, mustering the least emotional voice he possessed.

"I don't give a flying fuck," Sakura replied in a significantly more emphatic tone.

"We're supposed to spend this time going over the mission."

"We have days before we reach Tea. I'm sure I'll get the details from you before then." Despite her contrariness, Sakura slowed to a vigorous walk. She didn't look at Kakashi, instead preferring the scenery of the bleak winter understory. But she was allowing him to walk beside her, a good sign, Kakashi hoped. Perhaps it meant that her anger was abating.

He was wrong, of course.

Really, he should have known better.

Sakura used her proximity to launch a full-scale verbal assault.

"Have you always been an asshole, or is it a recent thing?"

"What? I—"

"Don't answer. It was a rhetorical question. You know, one would think you might have learned something about me after all the time we've spent together. Especially after living in close quarters. But no. You either don't know me at all, or worse, you don't care."

"Sakura—"

First round fired, she now ignored him. This wasn't going to be a conversation, Kakashi quickly realized. He waited for the next volley.

"You had no right to ask Naruto to remove me from this mission. No right, Kakashi."

He disagreed, vehemently. For someone in Sakura's mental state to take part in a mission like this was foolhardy—not only on her part, but on the part of anyone who'd sanction such a mission.

He tried to get a word in, despite the likely result of doing so. "Did you consider that I might know some details you don't?"

She ignored him, as expected.

"You made me feel like a child. Like I need looking after. Completely impotent. I'm a _jounin_, Kakashi. I worked hard for the rank. I made _sacrifices_—" Sakura's voice broke.

Sacrifices. That was the very point. She'd made sacrifices that had cost her too much. To leverage those sacrifices further was unconscionable.

"I know that, Sakura," Kakashi replied softly. "That's why—"

"How can it be _why_?"

"If you'd let me finish a sentence."

She stopped short and he nearly fell against her.

"Go ahead. Finish. Say what you have to say."

"This mission is too close to what you've already endured."

"Says who? Dr. Hatake? Ibiki gave me a clean bill of mental health. You didn't know that, did you?"

He didn't. But Sakura was smart enough to fool the typical psychological test, even one geared toward the wiliest of ninja. There was no doubt in Kakashi's mind that she'd done so in this case.

"But what Ibiki thinks is immaterial, ultimately. This was _my_ decision to make. For you to butt in and proclaim your reservations openly—"

"I asked to speak with Naruto privately."

"And he denied you. Because he knows more about team morale and cohesion than you do. And what are the chances of me getting captured, anyway? You took out a whole crew of these thugs single-handedly. I should be able to escape them, if nothing else."

In hand to hand combat, that was certainly true. But not if she were drugged or otherwise incapacitated. But that wasn't his point. It was the trauma of seeing young girls abused that concerned him. But he'd already made this point. It was obvious Sakura wasn't listening.

"I agree," he said instead. "I'm not going to let you get captured, but even if you did I have faith that you'd take care of things."

Sakura exhaled a sigh of frustration, turning toward her adversary with hands on her hips and a green fire in her eyes.

"Then why?"

He took a deep breath before trying once more.

"They're kidnapping children, Sakura. Girls. Selling them. Doing who knows what to them. I don't want you to see that."

"You don't get to make those decisions, Kakashi. You're not my father. You're not even my friend."

That stung.

"It's not a good sign that my teammate thinks less of my abilities than the Hokage does."

"So it's wrong to want to protect you, Sakura? To want to be your friend?"

"That ship has sailed." Sakura was finished apparently, because the next 40 kilometers were hiked in a silence broken only by the sound of frost blackened leaves crushing underfoot.

When they stopped for a water break, Kakashi tried to break the tension. "Shall we devise a plan?" He already had one sketched out, but it would be better, he knew, to start from scratch so that Sakura was equal partner in its development. Besides that, Naruto had not assigned a leader to this mission. He'd been clear that they were to handle decision making as a team.

"I guess you'd better tell me all you know about this guy."

"Very little. I'm not even sure of his identity. I'd guess he's Yamakiri Hajime given Sencha's description. But I never saw him. I took out everyone in the camp. But according to her, there was a man in a hitae-ate."

"Insignia?"

"No idea."

"The fact that he was able to assemble a new gang so quickly says something about him."

"He's either very powerful, and the crew holding Sencha was only a small part of his group, or he's very charismatic."

"Able to recruit quickly."

"Yeah."

"Assuming it's the same guy at work here, what makes you think this is more than a simple kidnapping?"

"Lady Sencha wasn't ransomed. They had no idea who she was."

"They couldn't ID a princess?" Sakura snorted in derision.

"She's not terribly princess-like, to put it mildly. And she'd never been seen in public before the kidnapping."

"She lived her life behind a screen?" Sakura raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Pretty much. She had no idea what was going on. Their true motives. They didn't touch her, which suggests what they'd planned for her."

"That would devalue the product."

Kakashi nodded. "And they were headed to the port. Sencha is fourteen but you would never guess it. Anorexia. She hasn't even had her growth spurt yet. She has the body of a ten-year-old. And there's a subset of men…" He didn't continue. The subject was too distasteful.

"That's why Naruto wanted me on the mission. Don't you see? These girls will need a female to lean on once we rescue them. My medic's skills will be needed. And my own experience—" Sakura's face darkened in thought.

"Yeah." She was right, assuming the girls survived their recovery. But that didn't justify her inclusion on this mission.

* * *

Kakashi thought the worst of Sakura's mood was over. She was quite civil to him for the entire afternoon, offering to refill his water bottle when they encountered a stream large enough to lack an ice layer. And she'd even laughed once or twice as they brainstormed plans of attack.

But her foul mood returned as they set up camp.

"Why wouldn't you bring a tent? Do you have any idea how cold it's going to be tonight? You can smell it in the air."

"I'm used to roughing it."

"And I'm not? The difference is I'm not stupid."

"Don't worry about me."

"I don't plan to. Have fun building your lean-to." Sakura rolled several stones into a ring and quickly set up a small fire, boiling just enough water for her own cup ramen.

Her comment might have been intended as a passive aggressive snipe, but Kakashi wasn't bothered. He knew that occasionally Sakura took an extraordinarily long time to let go of her anger. She was angry at Sai for a good month after he'd drawn an unflattering cartoon of her, even after he produced three attractive portraits of her as mitigation. If nothing else, at least Sakura's anger hadn't taken on a physical manifestation. Kakashi didn't relish the idea of entering the daimyou's palace with a black-and-blue eye.

"I'll take first watch," he said after boiling his own dinner. He didn't add "happily," although he might have. He had no desire to spend an evening in the presence of Sakura. They'd likely argue again and end up saying things that shouldn't be said. Anger tended to loosen the most well-hidden opinions, to the detriment of all. Friendships ended this way. And despite what Sakura might think, Kakashi most definitely was still her friend. Sometimes space and silence were what a relationship needed. He was certain this was one of those times.

After finishing his dinner and washing up all of the implements from their evening meal, Kakashi fished his traveling cloak from his rucksack, then set the well-worn pack beneath the nearest tree. Sakura was right, he realized. It was getting colder. His nose was already cold, as were his fingers, despite their half gloves. He jumped into a nest of tree branches and settled himself in for a long evening. He'd forgo building a lean-to, he decided.

He'd sheltered in the cold before. There was nothing to it, really. He pulled the hood of his cloak up to stop short the greatest source of potential heat loss, and drew his legs close to limit exposed surface area. He wished he was wearing boots instead of the typical ninja footwear with its open toes, but he'd decided against them. Their rigid soles limited movement, particularly tree walking too much. At least he had thought ahead enough to wear socks. It was a pity they were cotton, not wool.

It was too dark to read, so he leaned back against the tree trunk instead, and listened to the forest noises. An occasional owl was all he heard: the other occupants of the woods were seemingly settled in for the night, another indicator of the evening's likely weather.

Kakashi pulled his cloak more tightly around him as the temperature continued to drop and minute droplets of rain began to fall. He wasn't concerned. The tree he'd chosen as lookout was a conifer, which meant he'd be sheltered from the worst of it.

Sakura was right, he thought as he closed his eyes for a moment. He knew this on a gut level. Her presence was needed on this mission, as her skills would be invaluable if the girls were injured or traumatized. But it seemed horribly unfair to place their well-being on the shoulders of a woman who'd endured much the same.

She couldn't be over her mizuage. Her behavior with men suggested far different. What would happen if the girls weren't being treated as humanely as Sencha was? What would she do if this gang were _harming_ these girls? Would she be able to handle it? Kakashi had his doubts. Sakura was anything but weak. But because she was kind, in possession of a healer's heart which full of empathy, she'd feel their pain herself—she'd take it on. Its effect on her couldn't be positive.

He didn't want to see her fall apart again.

And he wasn't sure if he could maintain a distance between them. She was all he thought of.

The rain was freezing, he realized, and moving almost horizontally, urged on by a wind that was silent earlier that evening. Needlelike water droplets on the verge of becoming ice assaulted him, and he noticed the twigs of nearby branches were already coated with a glassy layer. His hair felt a bit crunchy, as well. Maybe he'd drifted off for a little while: his woolen cloak was coated with a lawn of frozen droplets.

Kakashi jumped to the ground much more heavily than he intended, his legs half-asleep. The shattering of the ice covered undergrowth awakened his teammate, who groggily unzipped her tent.

"It's three a.m. Why didn't you wake me?" Sakura rubbed her eyes before lighting a lantern and throwing on her cloak. The slightest tinge of fear distorted her features. "Shit. You'd better get inside."

Like the best medics, she did not allow her worry to distract her.

Sakura zipped the tent shut after pulling an unmoving Kakashi into the small space, and felt his forehead. Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated.

"About 29 degrees. Not good, Kakashi."

She worked on his hands first. She didn't rub them vigorously but instead placed them under her armpits until they warmed slightly.

"No crack?" she asked as she removed his hands. "Not even a joke?"

The medic yanked off his sandals and applied warming chakra to his feet. He felt stabbing, needlelike pains in his formerly blue toes as her treatment began to take effect.

"I'll be right back," she said once she was satisfied. "In the meantime, get undressed and into my sleeping bag."

Kakashi didn't protest. He disliked the idea of rousting Sakura from her warm bed, but his brain was working too slowly to mount a rebuttal. Besides, his teeth were chattering. But the button of his cloak seemed frozen in place and the zipper of his jounin vest was intractable. He'd never undressed more slowly in his life, particularly when being ordered into a woman's bed.

Not that this was anything like a roll in the hay. He felt the urge to giggle, inappropriate though that was.

Sakura returned with several rocks from the waning fire bundled into her cloak. She set them down next to the sleeping bag, close to his torso, cursing as she did so.

"If I was a fire type, I'd have these glowing by now."

"And burn down the tent in the process, no doubt." She hadn't done a bad job. The rocks were steaming as they warmed they damp cloak beneath them.

"You're cracking jokes. That's a good sign. You were incoherent a few minutes ago." Sakura placed a hand on his forehead, then unzipped the sleeping bag enough to feel his chest and arms.

"You're still freezing. Idiot."

He didn't reply: he was too tired.

"Have you forgotten your basic survival training? Hypothermia is nothing to laugh at." She placed her hands on his neck, again pushing warm chakra into his system.

"I'm not laughing."

"Why are you wearing cotton? The winter uniform is _wool_, for good reason: it insulates when wet. You were soaked, moron."

"Wool's too itchy."

"Silk, then."

"The quartermaster doesn't provide silk."

"So you'd risk your safety just to save a few ryo?" Sakura continued her well-intentioned harangue. "There was no need to stand watch tonight. Only a fool would be out in this kind of weather." She yanked off her shirt, then her boots and skirt until she was kneeling next to him in only a spaghetti-strap top and panties.

She looked delightful, despite the glare she sported. Who would have thought she wore black lace underwear when on missions? And that camisole had to be made of silk. He wanted to touch it to make sure. The contrast of the dark fabric against her skin was appealing, even half out of it he recognized this. Pure, firm, milky-white flesh that was an absolute pleasure to observe.

He didn't object when Sakura pulled back the top portion of the sleeping bag, although in his addled state Kakashi did wonder how the two of them would both fit. Ah, that was it. She was planning on sleeping on _top_ of him.

"Don't get any ideas. I'm still angry at you. And if the weather was better, you'd better believe I'd make you sleep outside." She lay atop him, her flesh against his, her camisole rolled up to better allow her warmth to penetrate. "But it would suck if you died on this trip. I'd never hear the end of it."

Kakashi felt her warmth flowing into him, and the gentle tug of her chakra on his muscles and vital organs. His body responded, slowly. First the feeling came back into his hands, and then his feet. Finally his mental faculties went back on line.

"Sakura?" She was out, either asleep or unconscious. He carefully rolled her off him, then turned to his side so that lay face to face. He gently rested one arm across her torso, and cradled her head with the other. She'd probably be annoyed when she woke up: he guessed she had no desire to spend the evening in his embrace, considering her earlier anger. But she'd furious if he left the warm cocoon of her down-filled sleeping bag, and he certainly wasn't willing to have _her_ suffer through a cold, wet night.

She'd depleted her chakra: that explained her unresponsiveness when he tried to rouse her. Kakashi half chuckled. They were quite the pair: a seasoned warrior falling victim to a modest ice storm, and a medic draining her energy reserves in an effort to mend him. If an enemy were to come along right now, they'd both be toast. He was warm, but still fatigued. And she was completely out. There was nothing he could do about this strategic disadvantage, he thought as he nestled into the curves of her body.

He was glad he was exhausted, actually. Although her raw sexuality was hard to ignore, his body was in no condition to act on its desires. But if he woke up, rested, and found her next to him, intertwined with him, he didn't know what might happen.

He didn't need to worry. Kakashi woke to an empty tent and the smell of a traditional breakfast. He thanked the woodland gods for the small favors. Given the raging hard-on he had at the moment (a bit more intense than his body's usual morning announcement, no doubt due to Sakura's proximity the night before) he was glad she'd risen before him.

He crawled to the entrance of the tent and shivered at the cold seeping in through its metal zipper.

"My clothes? Sakura, could you hand me my pack?"

"Be right there." She came to the tent's entrance with a bundle in her hand.

"It was uncovered all night. I brushed off the ice as best I could, but the stuff inside got wet." The clothes she handed him were the ones he wore the night before, but permeated with the smell of wood smoke.

"How long ago did you get up?" Hours, he guessed, if she'd had time to dry his clothes. They were barely damp, he noticed as he pulled on his shirt.

"A while ago. Hurry up, your breakfast is getting cold."

He complied, and quickly joined her by the rebuilt fire. Miso soup, and rice and eggs. It wasn't standard mission fare—carrying eggs in one's pack was rarely a successful endeavor—but he wasn't complaining. Add a bit of broiled saury and it would be his favorite breakfast.

"You're kidding," he exclaimed as she handed him a small, rectangular tin, a small metal key still attached to its top. "Why would you—"

She'd been angry at him when they left the village. Why would she pack a food she hated that he adored?

"An army travels on its stomach." She scraped the remains of her breakfast into the fire, poured water into the rice pot and began to heat it.

"Well, thank you."

She shrugged in response.

"You're not yourself, you know." She didn't face him as she talked, instead focusing her attention on cleaning up the morning's repast.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not like you to do something so… _stupid_ as exposing yourself to the cold. And you left your pack out in the rain. That's Genin 101. You barked at Naruto when he did that years ago and the wild dogs got into his food."

She was right. Every first year genin knew that you treed your pack if it had food in it, and kept it safe otherwise. His obsession with Sakura was the clearly the cause of these oversights. It wasn't like him to let his frustration with another blind his ---

"Although I shouldn't complain. It helps to see that you have clay feet."

"How so?" He'd never realized that in her eyes he was on a pedestal. Or once was.

"It makes it easier to work with you, I guess. I've always worried that I wasn't good enough."

"What are you talking about?"

"Team Seven. I was the odd man out. _Girl_. No special talents, no family inheritance, no stunning jutsu. Just a boring civilian trying to make it as a ninja."

"A girl with superb chakra control. That's something. It took me years to reach the level of control you were born with."

She shrugged again.

"Speaking of which, you went a little too far last night."

"I know. But thanks to this," Sakura tapped her ankle, reminding Kakashi of the chakra-laden tattoo placed there, "I was able to put things to right when I woke up." She frowned at the fire. "You should have woken me, you know."

"And let you shiver in the cold while I hogged your sleeping bag? Not on your life. Close quarters is the norm on missions. Even if you're angry at your partner."

He was hoping for an "I'm not angry," but Sakura did not oblige. She changed the subject instead, irritation clearly evident in the scowl she flashed at him. "So what's going on with you? It's not just last night. You'd never back talk a superior the way you did to Naruto yesterday."

"It needed to be said."

"But what business is it of yours? He's the Hokage, you're merely an officer."

"I respect the chain of command, if that's what you're getting at. But a person has to know when to speak up. How many atrocities have been committed because a soldier was unwilling to question his orders? I didn't check my brain at the door when I became a ninja. And if it means I get busted down a rank or two for ruffling feathers than that's a price I'm willing to pay."

"But again, it was _none of your_ _business_. The missions I take on are between me and Naruto. Not you. How many times do we have to go over this?"

"You said I wasn't your friend. You're wrong."

"You don't act like a friend."

"You're not looking closely enough."

Sakura swished fresh water on the morning's dishes and quickly repacked the mess kits, slapping them onto the ground when she was done.

"I know what it is," she said in a voice filled with authority. "You're having a mid-life crisis."

"If you say so." Kakashi rose and began breaking camp.

It wasn't a mid-life crisis. He was barely into his thirties. He was definitely distracted, but worries over the path his life had taken surely were not the cause.

It was Sakura. He'd have to be an idiot not to recognize this. It was more than him wanting her however. His distraction revolved around Sakura, the genin he'd let down, the chunnin he'd allowed to make jounin by paying a terrible price. He'd be inhuman not to be distracted by the guilt generated by the simple act of _not_ acting.

It wasn't wrong to want to protect her now. It was human.

"We still need to talk strategy." He hadn't noticed that she'd come up behind him. Damn. He really was impaired.

"I was thinking a split reconnaissance effort. You?"

"That would be most practical." Sakura pulled her rucksack onto her back and began walking. "I guess the attack will depend on what we find."

Kakashi followed, noting that ice still covered almost every horizontal surface. He gestured toward a more deeply forested area, so that they might walk through the rough fern undergrowth instead.

"No. It will need to be two-pronged. The girls are the critical factor here. We'll need to secure their safety, preferably at the very start of the attack."

"That's my job."

Kakashi nodded. "They held Sencha in a cave. It seems likely they'd do the same again. Tea country has karst geology. Lots of sinkholes and caverns."

"I remember. Hard water, too."

"Limestone."

"Which is easy to crumble." Sakura flexed her gloved hand unconsciously.

"Effective, but too noisy. I agree that it would be better to get the girls to safety before we take out the gang, but I don't think it will be possible. We'll have to do the extraction while the attack is proceeding. There was one guard, last time. I'd expect at least two, given the number of girls they're holding. You'll need to divert their attention--"

"Another reason why a kunoichi was the perfect choice for the mission."

"—while not further harming the girls."

"Damsel in distress, then. Or genjutsu. And I won't appear at the mouth of the cave. I'll take them on further out."

"Good." Kakashi nodded in approval.

"And you?"

"Well, if it really is Yamakiri Hajime we're dealing with, I'm at an advantage."

"Because lightning bests earth."

"Right. And there were rumors that his secondary type was wind."

"That's decided then. As if there was any question about it."

"A week, then. Tops."

"Assuming they're in Tea."

"The minor countries are the perfect location for this kind of thing. They'd never get away with abducting children in a country with its own hidden village. And like I said, there are all the caves. Tea is the perfect place to have a hideout."

"Is that why Naruto seemed so eager for the village to take on this mission?"

"It might be a part. I'd guess the relationship he's forged with the daimyou is most of it. He sees people where others see opportunity. But in this case, the two coincide. Strategically, having Tea as an ally is huge. You've never been to Southport, have you? It's deep water, and more and more of the continent's trade is coming through it. Almost no taxes, so it's very attractive to the countries across the ocean. Tea will become a very wealthy nation soon, so it's best to have them on our side."

"I've never thought of Naruto as a strategic thinker."

"You might be surprised. He's still a bit slow on the uptake, but he's got a good head on his shoulders."

"Yeah. And he's a great friend."

"Right." Kakashi didn't miss the subtext of her statement, but he held his tongue. He had no desire to start arguing again. "It's another day to Tea but if we push it we can get there by midmorning tomorrow." He gestured to the low-hanging conifer branches around them. "The ice should be melting within an hour or two."

"Can't wait to be done with this, can you?" The sullen look of the day before had returned to Sakura's eyes, and Kakashi was momentarily flummoxed by her unique ability to turn the most simple of observations into a personal attack.

"Am I looking forward to freeing several young girls from their captors? No, not really. Other than that, this is just like any other time-critical mission. Meaning the sooner we get in and out, the better."

Kakashi shifted his pack onto his shoulders and broke into a trot. He was pleased when Sakura didn't follow suit: he suddenly needed his space.

* * *

They didn't make it to the Tea border until noon the next day. The ice storm was more severe in the mountainous region to the south of Fire; its residue slowed them down more than he predicted. Not only was it treacherously slippery, more so as the elevation increased, but the added weight of ice on tree limbs meant that they were not safe for walking. They journeyed through the understory instead, picking their way through icy patches.

Kakashi was surprised to see a small party waiting for them as they crossed into Tea. Two kago stood empty on the main road, their porters apparently on a cigarette break. But a servant clad in the livery of the daimyou approached them, paper in hand.

He smiled when he recognized Kakashi.

"The Lady asked that we bring you back to the palace. She has been waiting anxiously for you." The man, clad in a kimono that was black except for the oversized mon on its reverse, waved them toward the two sedan chairs.

Although Kakashi usually was not comfortable in being transported through the sweat of others, he was happy to make an exception. Sakura had no compunction about jumping into the basketlike contraption. Or maybe it was the two bearers assigned to her, both of whom were boyishly attractive. Either way, Sakura's face lit up as she moved toward the conveyance, and it was pleasant to see her so happy for once.

Kakashi was grateful for the solitude the kago afforded. He took advantage of the rare opportunity to read, bothered little by the shifting shadows created by the bamboo screens to his right and left. But he gave up after a while: it had begun to rain, fairly heavily and the light was obscured. Apart from that, Sakura was too much on his mind for him to focus on literature, however well written.

Sakura would find Sencha amusing, he guessed. The girl's energy was infectious, and in her natural element she'd likely direct her orders to the staff and not her companions. At least, he hoped so. An international incident might ensue should the young girl push the hot headed kunoichi a centimeter too far.

Kakashi heard the lady of Tea before he saw her. The heavy rain meant poor visibility, but the girl's near-strident voice was impossible to miss.

"If you're going to hold the umbrella, hold it over me! It's dripping all over me. God, never mind. Just get away!"

The kago was lowered to the ground, and the bamboo screen rolled up to allow Kakashi egress. Sencha stood right before the small vehicle, alone. Her servants, one with an elaborately painted umbrella, the other with a brazier that steamed in the rain stood off to one side, apparently cowed. The house stood behind them, impressive as it was the first time Kakashi saw it, and no less elegant in the dismal rain. Camellia trees flanked the impressive entrance to the palace. They were already in bloom—several months ahead of schedule. They'd likely been tricked into blooming by the gardener toiling at their roots.

Kakashi directed his attention to the young mistress of the place. She looked different. Her imperious expression was very much the same, but her face had filled out. She still looked like an innocent pre-teen, however. Her actions underscored this assessment.

She yanked Kakashi's arm to pull him out of the cramped kago, heedless of the bamboo curtain swinging perilously above her.

"Ninja! You came! You came! Finally! Do you know how long I've been waiting?"

Hours, the copy ninja guessed, based on the bedraggled state of her attendants. He disembarked from the junior-sized conveyance, unfolding his lanky legs from an equally constricted torso. The princess of Tea danced around him as the needles of regained sensation stabbed through his feet.

"And Sakura? Where is she?"

"Here." Said kunoichi emerged from her own vehicle without help or pretense, and eyed Lady Sencha curiously.

"But how do you know my name?" Sakura asked after straightening her skirt and attempting to smooth the wrinkles from her red and white zippered shirt.

"Oh—"

"It was in the traveling papers," Kakashi broke in.

"No." Sakura's eyes narrowed. "That would be a break in _protocol_, Kakashi. And we both know how important it is to follow the rules."

She was right. Sakura didn't miss much. The specific ninja assigned to a mission was almost never announced to the client in advance. Should the messenger be waylaid on his journey, sensitive information could fall into the wrong hands.

"Oh, I just figured it would be you," Sencha explained sunnily. "Kakashi-san told me all about you."

"Did he?" Sakura's brow lifted even higher. "And what did he say?"

"Lady Sencha, I hate to impose on you, but would it be possible to show us to our accommodations? We're both tired and grubby. You know how traveling is." Kakashi wished telepathic jutsu were effective on civilians. In this case, however, his urgent plea would have to suffice.

"Oh! Right!" Sencha snapped her fingers and the umbrella-carrying servant came scurrying. "Get moving." She smiled again at her ninja guests. "Daisuke will show you the way. And Daichi will be along shortly with your bags."

Sencha turned toward the house and pointed to several floor to ceiling windows on the east side of the residence. "Join me at four for the afternoon tea ceremony. In the tea room. Daichi will show you where it is." This was stated as imperatively as the directions to her staff.

Kakashi and Sakura followed the two servants into the luxuriously appointed palace and down a wide, marble-tiled hallway abutting a manicured courtyard.

Daichi, his face as downtrodden as before silently opened the sliding doors to a room as big as Kakashi's entire house.

"It's amazing!" Sakura bounded into the room, any timidity she might have felt at coming face to face with royalty long gone.

The room had its own tokonoma, highlighting a vase that was likely priceless. It held a single, well-chosen branch, bare to suit the season. Behind it hung a silk edged scroll: a ink painting of a winter scene, featuring a blossoming camellia tree. The carved transoms running the perimeter of the room were also decorated with stylized, multi-petaled flowers, a fitting tribute to the ruler of a nation so indebted to the tea plant.

"Look at this courtyard! It's a scholar's garden! Amazing! Don't you think?"

Kakashi moved to the window and peered out at a rainy landscape of huge, spiky boulders, made not of the local limestone, but of a rock found only at the farthest reaches of the Earth country. It must have cost a fortune to move them to their current location. But given the owner of the place, that seemed appropriate.

The thud of their bags hitting the room's tatami mats caused Kakashi to turn around, just in time to note a look of disbelief blossoming on Sakura's face. Her knuckles tightened into white lumps as she faced Kakashi and hissed a quiet request.

"Tell me we're not sharing this room."

"That was the lady's request, ma'am." Apparently Daichi had excellent hearing. Not to mention a very poor sense of judgment. Sakura had decked others for insults lesser than "ma'am."

Confusion quickly turned to ire and Kakashi jumped between the freakishly strong kunoichi and her intended target.

"It's obviously a mistake, Sakura. I'll fix it. Right away."

"What did you tell her about us?"

Kakashi didn't stick around to answer. Instead he high-tailed it out of the room, noting wryly that Daichi was smart enough to get out of there as well. Both ran into Sencha just outside the main hall.

"Do you like it?" The Lady's mischievous smile informed Kakashi that their accommodations were not a mistake.

"We'll need separate rooms, Lady Sencha."

"I told you to call me Sencha. Why don't you? And why would you need your own room? Did you have a quarrel?"

"No quarrel. No _relationship_. How many times do you have to hear it?"

"Very well. Daichi, get Daisuke and tell him to make up the Spring room." Her servant hurried away, glad to be out of the little dictator's reach.

"So tell me. How have you been? Anything exciting happen since you left?"

"Nothing that's not classified."

"Your lovers' spat is classified? How boring for me."

Kakashi sighed. The girl had a one-track mind. "And you?"

"I'm settling in to the job. My father trusts me enough to leave me in charge in his absence."

"Where is he?"

"He went to Southport."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "Business, I guess," he ventured.

"We own several ships, and he knows almost every other ship owner or corporation head. He thought those men might be planning on stowing the girls aboard one of the smaller ships and sailing to Snow or the great continent."

"I see." How stupid could the daimyou be? Any ship owner involved in human trafficking was not about to admit to it, and certainly not to the most powerful man in the land. A throat slitting would be the expected response, not _honesty_.

Daichi returned then, out of breath, but Sencha immediately gave him new orders. "Take ninja-san to his room. I assume it's ready by now. Don't forget, Kakashi. Tea at four. You'll find something to wear in your room, in case you don't have anything appropriate to wear."

"We'll brief then?"

"Of course. As soon as my father returns."

Kakashi followed Sencha's lesser servant to his new quarters. Not surprisingly they were adjacent to Sakura's. A wall of fusuma separated the two spaces, such that the two rooms could easily be converted into a larger suite, not unlike the rooms in a hotel conference center.

His room was just as elegant as Sakura's, although its decorating was a better fit to the kunoichi, given its theme. This room had a tokonoma, as well. This one featured plum blossoms, which like the camellia outside had been forced into bloom. He might be at a ryokan—one of the highest caliber—given the attention to detail of his surroundings. A kimono and juban hung on a bamboo rack at one end of the room. The tea ceremony was to be quite formal, he surmised. Hopefully it wouldn't be as long and drawn out as the ones he'd endured in Fire, where the way one held ones cup communicated more about social status than clothing or speech patterns.

Kakashi showered quickly in the well-appointed bathroom, not taking the time to appreciate the almond fragrance of the toiletries provided for him, nor to luxuriate in the thick Wind country towel he wrapped around himself. He rubbed his hair dry with several swipes of the plush textile then ran his fingers through the resulting clumpy mess in a near-futile effort to subdue his uncoiffure.

He dressed quickly, as it was approaching four p.m., and went next door to inform his partner of the evening's sartorial directive. He needn't have bothered, however.

Sakura answered her door dressed in a pale green kimono, its color a bit out of place for the season, but perfectly suited to her complexion. She'd blown her hair dry—a rare luxury when one was on a mission, and one she'd complained about heartily during her younger days—removing the stubborn wave that caused parts of her bobbed hair to curve outwards.

She smelled of roses. He couldn't help but notice.

"It's close to four," he said, as there was little he could mention without provoking a negative response. "Shall we?"

"Isn't it standard practice that you be late?" Sakura asked drily, accompanying him nonetheless.

"Not for the daimyou of Tea. Nor for his daughter." His reply was equally arid.

"Some bad news," he added after a moment, once he was sure the hall was empty.

"Oh?"

"He's gone to Southport."

"The daimyou? Don't tell me he's hunting them down himself."

"Bingo."

"Why would he do something so stupid?"

"Ah. You haven't met the man." Kakashi stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Guilt?"

"What do you mean?" Sakura's voice softened a bit as they entered the palace's main reception hall. Thankfully Sencha was not present.

"He got his daughter back. But his subjects…"

"Got it."

* * *

In his previous visit to the palace, Kakashi had not visited the tea room. It was not what he expected. Instead of a simple, zen-like room with minimal furnishings this room was ornately decorated with flowers and several cages of songbirds hung from the ceiling. They appeared to sing on demand.

"Nightingales," Sakura noted. "Although it isn't evening yet. I didn't realize Tea had links to the western nations."

"We don't," Sencha replied as the entered the room. "Daddy just built it for me."

Kakashi and Sakura exchanged glances.

"Isn't it great?" the Tea princess continued. "I was reading about the Gongfu tea ceremony and Daddy, well he'll do just about anything for me."

"He sounds like a wonderful man," Sakura murmured.

Sencha giggled. "I've got him wrapped around my little finger!" She turned away from her guests and bellowed into the hall. "Daichi! Where are you?"

The servant came running. Kakashi noticed a small facial tic just below the young man's mouth. The copy ninja wondered if the man was indentured, or free to leave his employ. Probably the former: Kakashi couldn't imagine the unending stress of working for the demanding girl.

"Daichi's our tea master. That's why I hired him."

The rather nervous servant knelt next to an extremely low table covered with the implements required for the ceremony. Kakashi prepared himself for the worst. He and Sakura sat completely still in a seiza pose, as was customary for the ceremony they had both experienced in Fire.

But instead of a silence allowing an appreciation of the tea master's well-practiced skills, music began to play, in a dissonant pentatonic scale. It utterly ruined any semblance of concentration Kakashi struggled to maintain.

"This is a ceremony of pleasure, not contemplation," Sakura laughed as Daichi handed her the first cup of Oolong tea. "You're just supposed to enjoy the flavor."

The girl sipped her tea, then nodded to Daichi, who poured two more cups of the steaming beverage.

"So!" Sencha clapped her hands before her guests were half-finished. "You can go now, Daichi."

"But my lady…"

Sencha shrugged as she turned away from the poor man. "There are more steps, actually, but I'd rather skip the boring parts." Daichi slunk away, looking even more forlorn than before.

"Let's get down to business. My dad will be along any minute."

Kakashi gave a small sigh of relief. He had half expected news of the man's murder, instead.

"He's returned?" Sakura asked.

Sencha nodded. "He didn't have much luck. Four ships had already left port before he arrived, including one owned by some foreign group. Daddy's men paid off the longshoremen and they admitted they'd carried aboard several large crates. They heard noises coming from inside and assumed they were zoo animals. That's what they said, anyway."

"The girls…" Sakura bit her lip.

"They must have taken lodgings somewhere in Southport. Did your dad check on that?" Kakashi doubted this. The daimyou's men weren't ninja. They didn't know the ins and outs of surveillance. If anything they'd made the coming mission more difficult. _Amateurs_.

"You can ask him yourself."

The daimyou of Tea entered the room, as blond and impish-looking as his daughter, but in a fleshy, stocky way. He sat down on a chaise and Kakashi noticed that several servants, Daichi among them had entered with him. They quickly rearranged the room's furnishings into an impromptu court. The servants were clearly skilled at anticipating the great lord's needs, apart from Daichi. He held back, unsure of how to act.

Sakura took pity on the man she'd nearly pounded earlier, bestowing on him a 150 watt smile of encouragement. Daichi's face lit up accordingly and immediately he seemed much more at ease.

"And who is this young thing?" The daimyou's grass green eyes glimmered as he directed his gaze at the still-beaming Sakura.

"Lord Koichi, may I introduce my associate, Miss Haruno Sakura, jounin of the Village Hidden in the Leaves."

Sakura left her chair and bowed deeply.

"I didn't know ninja could be so beautiful."

The pink-haired kunoichi blushed at this pathetic excuse for a pick-up line.

"And so ladylike. Maybe you could teach Sencha a thing or two while you're here."

"Daddy!" The young Lady glared at her father, who winked in her general direction. His focus was still on Sakura, much to Kakashi's irritation.

"Sencha briefed you on the situation, I gather."

The pair nodded, and Sakura spoke next.

"Did you determine where they were staying? A hotel or safehouse, maybe?"

"Sadly, no. My men and I were a bit pressed for time. Our objective was to save the girls."

"May I ask why you didn't wait for us?"

"No time! I sent a message as soon as it became clear that there was a pattern of kidnappings, but I knew it would be days before you got here. Young lives were at stake." He looked at Sencha as he spoke, and Kakashi knew he was thinking of her younger years, and seeing his daughter's face on each of the lost girls.

"Your dedication to your subjects is commendable, Lord Koicha. But you realize that you placed yourself in great danger, don't you?" Kakashi worded this as tactfully as possible.

The sometimes pompous man reddened but he waved his hand dismissively. "My men carried out the search and interviews, not me."

"But now they know you're onto them."

"How?"

The man couldn't be that dense. Thankfully, Sakura jumped into the conversation again, liberally lacing her words with honey.

"They must know someone at the docks if they were able to secure a ship so easily. And I hope you'll pardon me saying so, but a person of your prestige—and even your men—would stand out clearly in that sort of place."

Lord Koicha puffed up. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

"Do you still want us to track this man?"

"Track him? I want you to kill him."

"Did your men get a description of him?"

"Nothing different from what Sencha said. Sorry about that."

"If the man is who we think he is, there's a bounty on his head. Killing him won't be an issue—"

"But the problem with that," Sakura interjected, "is that if we take him out straight away we won't be sure that he is the one responsible for these kidnappings."

"I see. A very good point, Miss Sakura."

She actually blushed again, like a preteen girl. But it was clear she had him eating out of her hand. This must be her intent, Kakashi mused. Trust a kunoichi to smooth an otherwise bumpy situation into glass.

"What would be the best course of action, in your view?"

"Infiltration."

Kakashi couldn't agree more.

"We need to spend time with them, find out the scope of their operation."

"Obviously we won't let any more girls come to harm. They'll be returned safely to their families," Kakashi added.

Lord Koichi nodded vigorously.

"You'll be leaving tomorrow, then?"

"No, the day after. We'll need supplies and clothing if we're going to pass ourselves off as civilians."

"I see. Well, then. We'll have some time to entertain you." He motioned to a servant, who came forward quietly. The two spoke briefly and the servant left the room, taking most of the attendant staff with him.

"My chef has prepared a light meal for you, if you'll follow me."

The group entered the main dining hall, where the "light feast" was laid out.

Sakura did not object when the daimyou pulled out a chair for her—the seat just to the right of his own—nor when he monopolized her for the entire evening. If anything, she seemed enchanted with him. She laughed freely: not the forced, studied laugh she'd used on karaoke night, but the sparkling, vivacious laugh that came when she was truly amused.

Kakashi had no intention of eating, despite the quality of food being served. Fish carted in from the southern sea, and broiled to a golden brown succulence tempted him sorely, but there was no reason for the daimyou, his daughter or the palace staff to see the copy ninja's face. Kakashi consoled himself with the thought of sneaking a plate back to his room and busied himself by talking to Sencha.

His eye kept drifting toward the far end of the table, however, where the daimyou and his companion for the evening were giggling.

"I love a good appetite on a girl," the daimyou half-shouted in the blustery voice usual to him. "Sencha, you could learn a thing from Sakura."

The daimyou's daughter glowered as her father continued.

"Makes you wonder how you're not fat as a cow."

Sakura did not react the way Kakashi expected. Just weeks before he had said something similar, though no way near as indelicate and the kunoichi had lit into him. But she simply smiled at the daimyou's tactless observation and offered a reasonable explanation.

"Shinobi exercise far more than the average civilian. As a result our resting metabolism can be three to five times faster than normal. I have to eat, or I'd just waste away." She tucked into the second helping of roast duck a servant set before her, causing the daimyou to laugh.

"Lucky," He patted the distended belly that hung over his low-slung obi, and leaned in to exchange private words with her.

"Don't worry," the Sencha whispered. "He won't steal her away. I already told him you're a couple."

"You _what_?" Kakashi's words echoed through the hall, putting an immediate stop to the daimyou's animated conversation.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Er, Sencha was just telling me how much she spent on the Tea room."

The daimyou shrugged. "Oh, yes. I really should put her on an allowance. Sakura," he turned his attention back to Kakashi's partner, "Will you let me show you the palace? I'm sure you haven't had a proper tour."

"I'd be delighted!"

The pair quickly left the room, much to Kakashi's consternation. There was work to be done if they were going to hit the road the day after next. And even if Lord Koicha had no interest in Sakura, his hands were a little too touchy-feely.

He felt eyes on him and looked up to see Sencha observing him. Her smile was Cheshire-like. "Well, I guess dinner's over."

"Do you have any maps of the country? Detailed ones."

"Of course. I'll have Daddy's secretary get them from the library."

"I'll need a geological survey and one showing all villages, no matter how small. And I'll need the names of the villages the girls came from."

The maps and related information were quickly procured and Kakashi excused himself for the evening. He had a lot of work to do.

His room wasn't the best place for studying a minutely detailed parchment, given its indirect lighting and lack of a workspace. But it had one huge advantage: solitude.

Some patterns began to emerge. Every girl was taken from a village with between 500 and 1000 people. This made sense: in a smaller village strangers would be noticed, while in the larger villages, people were more vigilant about strangers. But in these medium sized villages, members of the crew were most likely able to move undetected.

Kakashi circled the sites on the map, and noticed that although they were widespread in location, they formed an uneven ring. It stood to reason that their base of operations was likely somewhere near the center, roughly equidistant from all of them. The copy ninja smiled. At least he knew where they'd be heading.

His next job was to examine the topographic map. The larger caverns were mapped, but these seemed unlikely candidates for a hideout: too public.

Kakashi stretched and wished he'd asked Sencha for a magnifying glass. His eye was bleary from focusing so closely. He leaned over the map once more, but his concentration was broken by the sound of laughter.

It was coming from next door—from Sakura's room. And it wasn't just female laughter. A loud baritone harmonized with her alto, and Kakashi immediately knew who was visiting.

Something was extremely amusing: Sakura's giggles turned into barely controlled screeches of glee. That was the sake's fault. It had flowed quite freely at dinner.

Kakashi rose in disgust and headed for the bathroom. He wouldn't be able to concentrate as long as the pair were carrying on so loudly. And he didn't dare interrupt them: who would interrupt their host, especially a daimyou?

He turned the shower on full blast, and left the room to grab his pack. The clothes inside were damp from the ice storm and smelly by now. He pulled them from the bag, and threw them into the tub, happy that the pelting spray completely obliterated the sounds from next door.

Laundry complete, it was his turn. He spent a good half hour in the shower's spray, and did his best to fully appreciate it. Who knew when he'd be showering again?

Thankfully the next door noises had stopped when he reentered his bedroom. He knelt once more over his maps, noting several more geologic features.

But then he heard moaning.

Not painful moaning, rather cries of a different kind.

It was Sakura, damn her. He should have known she'd carry on in this way, even on a mission. She was completely out of control.

She had to know that sleeping with a client was forbidden. It was the type of offense that could strip a jounin of his (or her) rank.

But there was nothing Kakashi could do, not really.

He could slide back one of the fusuma separating the rooms, just a crack, and confirm what his other senses told him. Part of him was in favor of this plan of action—strongly in favor. The sight of Sakura with her partner had been strangely provocative last time, although he'd felt terribly dirty afterward. Even listening to her now, to her short quivering breaths and soft cries of near-ecstasy made him want to assault himself.

But he held back.

He paced the room instead, putting his nervous energy to work.

A man like the daimyou didn't deserve her, no matter how rich and powerful he was. He wouldn't be able to appreciate her free spirit, nor her dedication to her craft. He saw only Sakura's beauty, and maybe (if he were a more intelligent person than Kakashi thought) her dry wit. But loads of women had those attributes. Sakura was much more.

Kakashi rolled up the maps, threw on some clothes and bounded next door. He'd just play dumb, he decided, and remove her from the situation. He'd make no insinuations, no judgmental statements. The daimyou would leave, blustering with embarassment, and his little tete-a-tete would be over. Sure Sakura would be angry, but more importantly, she'd be rid of him.

He banged on the sliding door, and listened for the hurried rustle of lovers searching for their abandoned clothes. It was strangely quiet on the other side of the door, however.

It slid open and a bathrobed Sakura peered out.

"It's late. What do you want?"

"You left before we could discuss strategy. Can I come in?"

Sakura glowered, but stood aside, allowing Kakashi access to her impromptu love nest.

The room was empty, and a quick glance to his right where the bathroom stood open showed him that he and Sakura were the space's only occupants.

Her hair was mussed, and her robe was belted tightly around her waist. That suggested someone might have been here. But how could he have left so quickly? The room had only one exit. And her face wasn't flushed, the copy ninja noticed, nor were her lips swollen from passionate kissing. Kakashi scratched his head in puzzlement.

"Well?"

"I've been thinking."

"Yes?"

"About the infiltration."

"Right." Sakura folded her arms across her chest in a show of impatience.

"About our cover."

"Are three word sentences your limit this evening? Out with it."

Kakashi forcibly spat out the words, and cringed as they hung in the air.

"We'll need to pose as lovers."


End file.
